


Easy Come, Easy Go

by jeremieyz



Series: Here's To Living [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, a lot more characters show up/is mentioned, but these are the mains ones I suppose, some background Tony/Pepper Thor/Jane and Clint/Tasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeremieyz/pseuds/jeremieyz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's attempts at integrating into the modern world are momentarily thwarted when Loki crashes back to Earth. Post-Avengers. Mostly Gen. Eventual Steve/Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 21st Century

**Author's Note:**

> Just got into the Avengers fandom not long ago, and immediately began to ship Steve/Loki like there was no tomorrow.
> 
> I like the idea of Loki coming back to Earth, somewhat helpless. I know it's an old idea, but hopefully I can do something new with it.
> 
> The title comes from Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, which, somehow, I think fits Loki so well.
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoy :)

Steve spends his days integrating into the 21st century. Or at least that's what he's supposed to do.

When Fury gave him these orders with utmost formality, Steve thought it had been a joke, and had to quickly swallow his laughter in response to the director's humorless glare. Now that the Earth is safe and the damage to the city mostly repaired, the Avengers once again dispersed. Tony and Bruce had returned to their respective research, Natasha and Clint to their respective missions, and Thor to tend to Asgardian business. So naturally, Fury must assume that Steve has nothing better to do than to twiddle his thumbs until the next alien invasion.

Steve isn't exactly offended because it's true in a way. Before the invasion, he had hardly been optimizing his time. Lonely, lost, and haunted by memories of his former life, Steve did very little besides eating, sleeping, and destroying punching bags at the boxing gym. But things are different now after the Chitaurian war, after joining the Avengers, because he has found purpose again. Evil still threatens mankind, and innocent people still need to be protected, so in that sense, the world had stayed the same just as much as it has changed.

So Steve follows Fury's orders despite how ridiculous it had sounded and sets off each day with determination to understand. But no matter how hard he tries, he still finds modern technology baffling and pop culture unbearably boisterous. He figures it's okay though, because he doesn't _have_ to like same movies and music as Clint or Tony. There are still plenty people like him in the 21st century, who shy away from crowds, enjoy meals at a homely diner, and buy used books to read in Central Park.

Steve likes the park. Now that it's mid-April and the weather finally resembles something close to spring, he takes his sketchbook to the park almost everyday and spends a good portion of the afternoon just watching and learning. He likes drawing people the most. Sometimes he would spend hours on a portrait of Peggy or Bucky, drawing from memory to make sure that he still can. His room is full of portraits of them, his favorite ones framed and hung, almost as real as photos. But now that Steve is giving the 21st century an honest chance, he tries to find inspiration from new experiences rather than old memories. He fills his sketchbook with quick, rough contours of the life around him—of Tony falling asleep at the breakfast table, Clint perched high up on the roof of the tower, Natasha curled up in her armchair as she drank hot tea. He doesn't know why, but he always feels a strange warmth whenever he sees his teammates in a domestic setting.

Steve draws strangers when he is at the park, even though he gets embarrassed when people look over his shoulders. He's good, but not that good, and he could never accept compliments gracefully even if they were nothing but honest opinions. Sometimes children would sit with him—with or without realizing that he's Captain America—and he'd let them flip through the lead filled pages of an old couple holding hands, a young woman walking with her Dalmation, twin girls with ribbons in their hair, twirling and twirling by the fountain. He would let the kids keep their favorite. He doesn't think anything special of his half-hearted sketches, but if they were enough to make a child happy, he would gladly give them away.

He stays in the park later than usual one day because a young girl had asked him to draw a portrait of her. The mother soon came and shooed her away, apologizing if her daughter had been a bother. Steve smiled and politely told her that it was not the case. He was only half way done with the portrait, but the little girl loved it just the same. He signed it as Captain America, but wrote Steve Rogers in smaller letters below.

The sun is touching the skyline by the time Steve gathered his things. It's been months since the Chitauri attack, but vigils are still held in the park every night in memory of those who were lost. Candles are lit, flowers are laid, and tears are shed as loved ones gather. Steve sees a boy with his head held high, eyes brimming with tears as his father sets a bouquet of lilies by a photo of a young woman. Steve starts to sketch the scene before him and gets the basic contours down before realizing that he could not continue.

He frowns as he sets his pencil down.

He has dinner in his favorite sandwich shop, where the waitress always brings him more food than he had ordered. Steve had thanked her many times and told her it was not necessary, but the woman would have none of it. He had saved her son from a burning school bus that day, and she could think of no other way to express her undying gratitude. So Steve would smile politely and take what she offered, but he always tried to make up for it with tip. He gets a respectable salary from S.H.I.E.L.D, much more money than he can ever spend alone, so he doesn't mind being generous.

Steve reads an abandoned newspaper as he eats his sandwich, skimming through the articles on the war in the Middle East, advances in Stark Industries, and then a brief blurb on the Avengers. He comes across a discussion of the Chitauri invasion, and his heart feels heavy again.

Loki's name was never revealed to the public. Thor had returned to Earth soon after his brother's capture to bid—on behalf of Odin and Asgard—to keep the younger prince's name free from public condemnation. Steve, as well as the rest of the Avengers, thought the request was utterly ridiculous. After all the destruction Loki had caused—prince or not—the people of Earth deserved to know the truth, deserved to stare into the eyes of their wrongdoer, even if Loki would face Asgardian justice. But in order to preserve friendly regards with Asgard, Fury eventually gave in to Thor's requests. The accounts of the invasion were quickly rewritten before releasing to the public. The commander of the Chitauri army was no longer Loki, but an unnamed, faceless being from the same realm as the cyborg-like creatures, capable of magic and shape shifting. Loki's involvement and any relations he has to Asgard were completely purged except for in confidential files held by S.H.I.E.L.D.

The Avengers were forced to keep their mouths shut during interviews. Phil Coulson (who is alive, and Steve is glad that he is, but this incident only adds to the mountain of grievances he has towards S.H.I.E.L.D) had prepped each of them on the lies they were to tell. And if all else failed, "I don't know" is always a satisfactory response. These public interviews always left Steve with a bitter taste in his mouth, but what else could he do?

He continues to flip through the newspaper before coming across some artist renditions of the Avengers as well as Loki, with the villain being pummeled to the ground. Steve wrinkles his nose at them.

While Loki's photo was never officially publicized (though some blurry cellphone pictures continue to circulate), enough people have seen him to know that he indeed has a face and is seemingly human despite his god-like abilities. And enough people have given consistent physical descriptions of him for artists to work with.

Steve turns to a blank page in his sketchbook and thinks of Loki—proud, elegant, and cruelly handsome, eyes glimmering in wild ambition, smile almost that of childish malice. How do you even begin to capture that on paper?

Drawing Loki is a challenge. Steve can't visualize the god the same way he can with Peggy or Bucky, capture their likeliness and spirit in only a few strokes. But he remembers him well enough from the few times they had fought, and he decides to make an honest attempt. He allows his pencil to wander, his mind devoid of everything but Loki.

Steve doesn't realize what he has created until an hour into the portrait, when the waitress is already clearing the tables next to him. He frowns as his rendition of Loki grins back at him—dark-eyed, thin-lipped, features sharp and attractive. Steve wonders if he had done the god too much justice.

Sometimes he wished people looked like their personalities, that beauty mirrored the kindness in one's heart. Maybe Loki would look rightfully hideous if that were true.

Steve brings the tip of his pencil to the edge of the god's chin before darkening the shadows there. He made Loki's angles even sharper, eyes more sunken, features more sinister and contorted, until the drawing looks nothing like the God of Mischief anymore. Steve studies at the portrait again, and something senseless and cruel and inhuman stares back at him, just like all the other sketches of Loki in the newspaper.

###

Steve visits the tower just as the sun dips behind the skyline. After the tower's near destruction, Tony had rebuffed the skyscraper to be bigger, taller, and uglier (although Steve had never dared to confess this out loud) than ever before. He and Pepper designed floors for each of the Avengers and insisted that they moved in, further implementing their association. Initially, no one accepted.

Tony whined for nearly three weeks about how they were the worst teammates ever to reject his absolutely brilliant and not to mention _generous_ offer. He had put so much thought into their personal living space and even designed gyms specifically tailored to each of their fighting styles. Steve was actually somewhat touched, although he didn't fail to point out that Tony never informed any of them before the construction had began and merely assumed that everyone would agree with his point of view.

Tony sulked for another week before offering access to his lab to anyone who can hold an intelligent conversation with him about the Higgs Boson. Of course, only Bruce took the bait, and within two days, the doctor caved in to Tony's persistency.

The next Avenger to join them was surprisingly Natasha. One night during a team dinner (minus Thor), Tony had once again bemoaned the choices they had made.

"Oh, not this again," Clint groaned before chugging down his can of beer, "For the last time, Stark, I _don't_ want to live with you."

"I hate you guys, I really do," Tony slurred, already half-hammered, "You never appreciate anything. And this— _this_ —" he waved wildly at the general space around him "—is all for the team. One hundred percent. Why am I suddenly the only one who cares about the team? And you guys call _me_ arrogant, selfish, don't play well with others—"

Clint opened his mouth to object, but Natasha spoke before him. "I'll consider it if you change the name from Stark to Avengers."

"Absolutely not!" Tony choked, just as Pepper smiled brilliantly. "We have a deal."

Within a week, Stark tower became the Avengers tower, and Natasha moved in. Clint also moved in over the next few days without any further coercion from Tony. None of them dared to comment on it, fearing that the archer would shoot an arrow through their eye socket.

Thor visited Earth later that month, and Tony immediately grasped the opportunity. They discussed the possibility of the god calling the tower his home away from home over a bucket of KFC. The god was instantly sold.

The others' gradual integration into the Avengers tower has only fueled Tony's resolve. Steve is the only one left at this point, and he shudders every time he catches the gleam of insane fixation in Tony's eyes. And this time, it's no different.

"Live with me," Tony says with utmost solemnity as Steve steps through the automatic doors. "We're meant for each other, Rogers. You and me."

Steve puts both hands up. "I'm only here to return Pepper's book."

"You're such a tease, my good Captain," Tony sighs theatrically while Steve rolls his eyes, "Always coming and going as you please, yet rejecting me every time."

"Oh, stop it, Tony," Pepper laughs as she smacks the scientist on the arm, "You're making our guest uncomfortable."

"Well, he's not supposed to be a guest." Tony crosses his arms.

"Did you enjoy it?" Pepper ignores the scientist before returning her attention to Steve.

"Yes, I did." Steve takes out the novel from his bag, a collection of the more unknown short stories of Kurt Vonnegut. "He has a great sense of humor and irony."

"I knew you would." Pepper smiles. "He's one of my favorite. Feel free to borrow any book you'd like."

"Okay, thank you," Steve says as he closes his bag. He frowns when his gaze falls to the window. The weather has been strange lately, pleasantly warm one moment, freezing the next, as if every week is a new season. The sky looks eerily beautiful right as dark purple clouds engulfs it whole. Only a strip of orange sunset remains at the brim of the horizon, and Steve can tell that the sky can fall any minute. Steve bids a quick farewell, opting to leave before it's too late.

"But it's about to rain." Tony hastily cuts in. "You can't go outside when it's raining."

"He's right, Steve," Pepper frowns, "The weather looks really bad. You're welcome to stay."

"Yeah," Tony quips again, "You already leave stuff here all the time. It's almost as if you—oh, I don't know—live here."

Steve sighs. It's true that he had left some things here during the few times he stayed over, but he highly suspects that Tony deliberately hid them so he would forget.

"Thank you, both of you," Steve says sheepishly, "But I really can't. I promised the old woman next door that I'd feed her cat when she's away."

Pepper smiles at him as if that was the nicest thing she has ever heard. Tony looks far from impressed. He eventually agrees to let Steve go though, while Pepper insists that he borrows an umbrella. Steve reluctantly agrees, knowing this means he will have to return the umbrella eventually and be forced to confront Tony sooner than he originally planned.

"It's just a little rain," he reassures them, "I'll be back before it even comes down. I'll be fine."

Of course, he was wrong. It was not just a little rain, but a full-fledged thunderstorm (he probably would have known if he had paid any attention at all to the weather broadcast). By the time he emerges from the subway station, the sky is pouring all of its content onto the city below. Steve doesn't even use the umbrella because it would only break under the pressure of the wind. By the time he makes it to his apartment, he is soaked to the bone.

He tosses his clothes into the hamper, showers, and feeds the neighbor's cat, before finally sinking into the living room couch. He rummages through his bag to find that most of his stuff has survived, with the exception of a few sketches. He flips through the wet paper until he finds the portrait of Loki he had ruined long before water even touched it. Loki looks even more monstrous now, smeared in a pool of black and gray as if he's decaying. Steve crumbles up the paper and tosses it into the trash bin.

He lives on the top floor of an old apartment building in SoHo. It's small but it has two floors. Steve keeps his bed on the second floor just below the skylight (which had been the only reason he even considered such a small, expensive apartment). He's almost never home during the day to enjoy the natural light, but at night, he likes to look up at the stars before falling asleep. Although the city is too bright for most stars to shine, there are still a few stubbornly bright ones, refusing to be reduced to darkness.

He thinks of his old life when he was a kid, when he and Bucky used to sneak up to the roof of his old apartment in Brooklyn with a few bottles of beer and dreams for the future. The skylight brings back old memories, but it's a good kind of ache, a gentle reminder that his past life is just as important and real. Everyone he has known and everything he has experienced make up a little bit of who he is now, and he never, ever wants to forget.

Tonight, of course, there are no stars. Rain beats on the panels in violent, sporadic rhythms as purple lightning tears across the sky. Steve waits for the thunder that never comes and falls asleep believing the worst of the storm must still be far away.

###

He jerks awake sometime during the middle of the night to the sound of glass shattering. He instinctively shields himself as the broken shards rain down, but couldn't contain an undignified "oof" as something solid and heavy hands on his stomach. It doesn't take long for him to realize it's a person, screaming and kicking and digging razor sharp glass deeper into both of them.

"You fools!" Steve hears a hysterical cry, nearly muffled by the rolling thunder. "Take me back! I know you can hear me! Take me back! Take me back!"

The voice is too familiar in its desperation, brokenness, and insanity. Steve thinks _it can't be_ , as he gropes blindly through the darkness, ignoring his cuts and bruises until he grips something that resembles two shoulders.

"Loki?" He gasps as lighting splits the sky in half, and suddenly he can see.

The body in his arms stiffens. The former Asgardian prince stares back at Steve in equal shock and horror, eyes brimmed red and long dark hair plastered across his cheek.

Steve exhales a shaky breath as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

Loki—the same Loki who had lead the Chitauri army to Earth months ago—is in his apartment—on his bed—after crashing through the skylight he loves so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you all enjoyed the first chapter :)
> 
> Feedback is always welcome. I tend to miss awful typos and grammar mistakes no matter how many times I proof-read, so feel free to point that out as well.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Not Quite There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next part after some serious rebuffing. Hope you all enjoy!

Steve snaps out of his trance when Loki elbows him in the face. The god attempts to scramble away, but Steve instinctively wrestles him back onto the bed. Loki punches him, scratches at his arms, nearly knees him in the groin, but to no avail. And Steve realizes that something is off because overpowering the god shouldn't be this easy. Loki's assaults are half-hearted at best, barely leaving a scratch on the super soldier, and he is getting more cut up from the glass than anything Loki manages. Against the backdrop of thunder and rain, Steve hears the eerie rattle of chains and feels metal as his fingers close around Loki's wrists. The god continues to struggle even as Steve pins his hands above his head. Lighting crackles above them to allow Steve to catch a glimpse of Loki in the light—eyes wild, breath ragged, and features contorted in pain. Loki goes limp beneath him as the sky darkens again.

"Are we done here?" Steve says sternly as a drop of water rolls down the bridge of his nose, landing on Loki's cheek.

The Asgardian responds with a slight nod, before giving up his last modicum of resistance.

Steve turns on the lights before pulling Loki up by his elbow. He drags him downstairs to his living room and pushes him unto the couch so that he is sitting.

Loki doesn't have his armor on, dressed only in a black tunic and matching pants. The material is thin and clings to him from the rain. He isn't wearing any shoes, but silver shackles around his ankles instead, connected by a long chain. Similar shackles are around his wrists, although the chain is shorter, limiting his movement. Loki has cuts all over him from the glass, blooming red as blood mixes with the water on his skin. There are a few bruises on his face, and Steve isn't sure if he's responsible for them.

"What are you doing back?" He towers over the god, arms crossed. Loki stares back challengingly, lip pressed into a thin line.

"How did you get here?"

Still nothing.

Steve furrows his brows. "Did you _escape_?"

Loki had the audacity to scoff.

 _This is not happening_ , Steve groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Dozens of questions are flashing through his mind right now, too quick for him to even ask in logical order—What is Loki up to? Why the hell isn't he in Asgard? Why Earth? Why now? Why Steve's apartment? The soldier is too tired and unprepared to deal with the trickster god. It's probably best to call S.H.I.E.L.D as soon as possible.

Steve sighs before stepping away from the couch, wary eyes never leaving his unwelcomed guest. "Okay, stay there and don't… _try_ anything."

Loki looks at him as if he were inane.

Steve picks up his phone and dials Coulson's number, counting the rings before the agent finally picks up.

"Captain, is something the matter?" He hears the agent's groggy voice on the other line.

"Hey, Phil. Sorry to wake you up at this hour but—" Steve winces as he brushes away glass from his hair "—you're not going to believe this."

"Is everything okay?" Coulson sounds more alert now.

"No, not really. It's Loki." Steve turns around to see the god on his couch, muscles taut and not paying Steve any attention at all. "He's back on Earth. He fell through my ceiling, and now he's here. In my apartment."

There is a long pause, and Steve prays that the agent believes him.

"Is he dangerous?" Coulson finally asks.

"No, he's…restrained. Can you—or someone from S.H.I.E.L.D—just come and get him?"

"Yes, I will arrange for it right away."

"Thank you." Steve sighs before hanging up.

He walks back to the couch, rubbing absent-mindedly at a scratch on his cheek. He cuts are almost healed now thanks to the serum, and Loki's injuries must be too with his Asgardian regenerative abilities or magic or whatever.

"Loki?" Steve says upon realizing that the god has his eyes closed, which is strange because Loki would never let his guard down in enemy territory unless—

Steve trails his gaze down the slender form until he sees red sinking into the light fabric of his couch. He immediately redials Coulson's number.

"Phil! We're going to need the paramedics!"

"Why are you hurt?"

"No, but I think he is."

Steve lays Loki down on his couch before lifting up the hem of his shirt. There is a long gash along Loki's ribs, so deep that Steve could see bone. Loki will need to get stitched up as soon as possible.

Steve presses a towel to the wound to slow the bleeding while the god remains thankfully unconscious. Loki seems honestly hurt, which hopefully narrows down the possibility of him deliberately infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. to wreck havoc. Of course, knowing the god, this could very well be a needlessly extravagant trap. But it doesn't really matter, Steve decides, because he would have done the same trap or not. He wants Loki out of his apartment, especially with families and children live on the floors below.

S.H.I.E.L.D arrives within the next hour, impressive considering the intensity of the storm. Men dressed in all black soon rush into the room, strapping Loki onto a stretcher and carrying him out. Steve leaves with them, sighing as he takes a last look at his broken skylight, as rain continues to flood his apartment. He'll just have to deal with this another day.

Steve sits with Coulson while Loki is being treated so that the agent can give a formal report of the incident.

"He fell through my skylight and landed on me," Steve recalls over a cup of coffee. "Naturally, I woke up."

"Did he attack you?" Coulson asks as he jots down every word.

"Well, yeah, but not right away. He was screaming for someone to 'take him back.' He didn't even realize I was there until I said his name."

"And then he attacked you?"

"Then he attacked me." Steve winces as he remembers their frantic scramble in his bed full of glass. "But despite the chains and the injuries, he wasn't all that strong. At least, compared to last time."

"Did anything happen after?"

"Not much. He stopped fighting me when I pinned him down. I asked him a few questions, and he didn't answer any of them. He passed out from his injury when I was calling you. And now we're here."

Coulson hums in acknowledgement as he records the last sentence.

"You think he's up to something?" Steve pinches his eyes closed and tries to will away his exhaustion.

"With Loki, you never know."

The former soldier rubs tiredly against his forehead as he thinks of the way Loki had struggled fruitlessly, how his chains had rattled and how he had bled. "I thought he was trying to escape. He looked like a prisoner on the run."

"That does seem likely." Coulson says as he gathers his papers. "We'll get more answers once he is awake. Natasha and Clint will be returning shortly. Agent Romanoff would fancy this interrogation."

"I'm sure she would." Steve couldn't hold back a yawn at the end of the sentence, and politely excuses himself.

"Do you have anywhere you can stay?" The agent offers a sympathetic smile. "You're welcome to rest at the base until you figure out your living situation."

"No need!" Tony Stark promptly barges into the conference room, body trembling with caffeine overdose. Steve winces at the sight. It's 4 in the morning. Why is he even awake? "There's a floor in Star—er—Avengers tower with his name written all over it. Cap's coming with me."

The soldier stares exhaustingly at Tony's maniacal grin and tries to weigh his options before realizing he has none.

He reluctantly does not say no.

Tony and Phil were kind enough to accompany Steve back to his apartment to help him move some of his necessities into the tower. The storm had passed by dawn, and there is not a single cloud in the sky, except for an angry swirl of black, purple, and green directly above the broken skylight.

"I think we have another problem," Tony sucks in a breath as Phil dials for backup.

S.H.I.E.L.D soon constructs a lab around the building and evacuates half of lower Manhattan. Coulson spends the rest of the morning arranging places for the displaced families to stay. Steve shyly mentions to him of the neighbor's cat, to which the agent merely smiles and assures that he will find it a safe place until the owner returns.

Steve doesn't plan to bring too much with him—just some clothes, sketchbooks, and mementos of his past life. Everything else, Tony has in the tower so there really is no point. Besides, when everything blows over and the world is safe again, he plans to move back. He tells Tony just that (all the while thanking him for his hospitality) but the scientist appears unfazed, convinced that Steve will change his mind soon enough.

Once settled in the rooms of the tower designed for him since the beginning, Steve decides to take a quick nap and wakes up around noon, more out of hunger than satisfied rest. Only Bruce is in the common area when he enters.

"Sorry about the apartment," the doctor offers a sympathetic nod, tilting his coffee mug slightly in the soldier's direction. Bruce understands Steve—at least better than Tony—when it comes to his preference for solitude. The doctor knows that there's a reason for why Steve chooses not to live in the tower (and it's not just to piss Tony off). He respects Steve's decision and never joins the poking and the prodding whenever Tony is in a coercing mood. Steve is infinitely grateful for that.

"It'll get fixed eventually," Steve sighs as he prepares a sandwich. "But it's good—in a way—that it was my apartment, and we were able to catch Loki right away. Who knows what could've happened? What if he landed on a family. He could've killed them."

Bruce chuckles into his coffee mug. "You're so optimistic. It's unbelievable."

Steve grins. "I suppose. But a little optimism never hurts."

"Dr. Banner. Captain Rogers." Jarvis's all-too-human voice resonates in the otherwise silent room. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has requested your presence."

"I guess this means Loki's awake." Bruce says as he downs the last bit of his coffee.

###

"Sleeping beauty!" Tony extends his arms in mock welcome as Steve steps into the conference room at the base. "Glad you finally made it."

"What did I miss?" Steve ignores him, hoping to bring some gravity to the meeting. They are on duty now, after all.

"Well, the other sleeping beauty woke up not long ago, which is why we called," Tony continues, "But then, he went completely psycho, flipped over the cot, tore open his stitches, and passed out again—although to be fair, Fury was the first thing he saw. Honestly, I would've done the same."

"Pathetic, really." Clint grins as he polishes an arrow, leaning against his chair with his feet on the table. As much as Clint had tried to downplay his trauma since Loki had taken over his mind, no one is really fooled. And eventually, the team reached a silent agreement to just never mention Loki when the archer is around. Most of them were good at it (except for Thor, during the brief times he was here).

Steve grabs a chair next to Tony while Bruce sits across from them with Clint.

"So we are just waiting then?" The doctor says, folding his hands on the table.

"Natasha's down there right now. She's going to handle Loki when he wakes up." Clint answers almost proudly.

Tony laughs before wiggling his brows suggestively. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind waking up to Tasha."

"Don't call her that." Clint glares daggers.

"Now, now children," Bruce attempts to placate the other two, "Tony, play nice."

"I think he's waking up." Steve seems to be the only one playing attention the screen showing Loki's cell. The god has calmly opened his eyes—dazzling and green and reflecting all sorts of colors from the fluorescent lights. His expression is schooled as he slowly turns his head to face his interrogator. There are bandages on his face and hands, covering the cuts from the glass, but a ring of fresh bruises have appeared around his neck, which Steve doesn't remember seeing the night before. He wonders if Asgardian punishment is as medieval as everyone is made to believe.

"Loki." Natasha says curtly, standing cross-armed before the transparent cell. Fury and Coulson lurks a few yards behind her.

"Agent Romanoff." Loki responds in acknowledgement, steady and deliberate as though, during his brief sleep, he has calculated every situation he might face and prepared a counter for each.

They watch the interrogation on the screen. It doesn't go anywhere because Loki seems completely disinterested in anything the Black Widow has to say. When the god had purposefully allowed himself to be captured months before, he poised himself with pride, he did not hesitate to use his quick tongue or masterful wit, and he always had to have the last word. And perhaps, that was why Natasha was able to best him, because he had been trying to best her. Now however, the conversation seems awfully one-sided, as if Loki's mind isn't completely there.

"What brings you to Earth this time?"

"None of your concern."

"I don't suppose you're here bent on destruction, seeing the state you're in."

"I'm glad you have eyes."

"Are you trying to escape justice?"

"This would be a poor place of choice, if that were true."

"Or perhaps you didn't have a choice."

"Then this would be an ill-fitting punishment."

"Maybe you're sent here to reconcile."

"Please, don't make me laugh."

"It should be in your best interest to cooperate, considering you're captured and helpless."

"Are you so sure that I am helpless?"

"We defeated you once."

"Then this is a request for a rematch."

"Sure, you and what army?"

Loki scowls at this. "Of all my enemies, you are the least. Do your worst, Midgardian. It would be nothing more than a slap on the wrist."

Natasha eventually leaves, face blank although a small wrinkle between her brows suggests her frustration. Tony lets out a long whistle as everyone turns away from the screen.

"Anyone else thinks reindeer games is on his mensies?"

"He does seem… _moody_." Bruce furrows his brows.

"Natasha did touch on all the bases that would annoy him," Clint frowns, "Although he's not taking the bait."

"Maybe she should have mentioned Thor," the doctor muses.

"Yeah, speaking of Thor…Where is he?" Tony cuts in.

"I was about to ask the same thing," Clint stares back at the scientist, "You and Bruce are the ones working on some way to contact Asgard."

"Yeah," Bruce scratches the back of his head, "That's still in beta."

Steve returns his attention to the screen where Loki is lying on his cot, unmoving like he had been throughout the interrogation. His hands are resting below his chest, and his eyes are closed. Steve notices the furrow of his eyebrows and a slight frown at his lips. His hands twitch from time to time as nails bite into the skin of his palms. Strangely enough, Loki seems more ill at ease when he's alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Till next time :)


	3. Plan of Attack

"Nice bracelets. A little too kinky for my taste though…" Tony grins, rubbing his beard as he analyzes the prospect before him. "Actually, that's not true. Know where I can get a pair?"

Loki does not dignify with a response.

"You don't seem to like them very much, but you still keep them around." Tony takes a few lazy strides towards the cell. "Let me guess. Can't get them off? Can't do your little magic tricks with them on, either?"

Loki follows his movement with wary eyes, lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'll be honest with you. I am _extremely_ curious to know how they work." Tony's eyes glistens with unholy glee, his forehead almost pressed to the transparent walls of the cell.

Loki's lips quirk up into a small grin. "Perhaps you should come and see for yourself."

The scientist's brows shoot up, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Fury's less than amused voice resonates from the overhead speaker. "No Stark, you cannot go into the cell."

Tony frowns like a child who was refused a new toy. "Our conversation is surveillance, by the way," he says dryly, "Though I'm sure you already knew that."

It's been three days since they had brought Loki back to the base. It's been three days of fruitless interrogations that Steve had sat through (even Tony is getting a shot at this point). After Natasha's first attempt, the god had revealed less and less with each encounter, sometimes opting not to speak at all no matter how loudly Fury yelled. For the most part, Loki simply wills himself to take whatever verbal abuse comes his way—head held high, eyes unwavering, face like a mask. And Steve finds this so strange because the god who had lead the Chitauri against them would never have been this… _passive_. Perhaps, those couple of months in Asgardian prison (or at least Steve presumes) has changed him. Up until now, Steve has yet to see that eerie smile the god so often wore. The small grin he showed to Tony would be the closest thing to it.

But that grin soon was replaced by a permanent scowl as Tony transitioned from being playfully quick-witted to unbearably rude, asking question after question with no relevance or class.

"Is it true that you gave birth to a horse?"

"How come Thor has a weekday named after him, and you don't?"

"In your honest opinion, is it possible for a mortal like me to make love to an Asgardian woman?"

By the time Fury orders Tony to return to the conference room, Loki looks like he is contemplating murder. Steve can almost sympathize with him. Almost.

Fury decides that there are more important matters to tend to because obviously they're getting nothing out of Loki. He orders Tony to return to his lab and work on contacting Thor. Bruce will join Coulson's team in lower Manhattan to investigate the portal, which still swirls angrily above Steve's apartment. Natasha and Clint are to return to their missions because villains aren't going to cancel their plans just because Loki crashed back to Earth. And last but not least, Steve was to remain at the base, just in case Loki isn't as helpless as he seems.

After everyone had gone his or her separate way, the director pulls Steve aside to have a word in private.

"What do you suppose Loki is up to?" Fury asks almost immediately.

"I don't know, sir." Steve finds the question strange, considering they had just spent a good two hours around the table, shouting out baseless theories. Anything is possible, considering they know little to nothing, but Steve—being the one who actually found Loki—is leaning towards believing that maybe the god didn't plan any of this.

"But judging by the chains and injuries," Steve decides, "He might very well be here against his will."

"But that doesn't make him any less dangerous." The director responds easily.

"No, sir."

"I plan to get rid of him as soon as possible, which is why I sent Stark and Banner away. Loki would either leave the way he came, or Asgard will have to deal with him."

Fury pauses as he stares out the window that spans from floor to ceiling of the conference room. "Dividing the team leaves us more vulnerable, but I don't have much of a choice. Loki—as dangerous as he is—is not our only threat. Romanoff and Barton are needed elsewhere."

Steve wonders where the director is going with this, because honestly, he is perfectly fine with staying here if he can't contribute anywhere else like the rest of the team. Steve doesn't need the pep talk. He is more than willing to do whatever he can for the safety of the planet.

But Fury almost immediately nullifies his assumption, which takes him slightly off guard. "There is a reason why I asked you to stay," the director says without meeting his eyes, "Because I believe, you are our best shot right now."

"Sir?" Steve has no idea what's going on anymore.

"Loki's mere presence puts our planet at risk," Fury elaborates, "And keeping him here without any knowledge of even why he's here is a time bomb waiting to explode. Our attempts to reason with him have not been productive, but perhaps, what we need is a different approach."

Something about this—perhaps it's Fury's tone, taunting almost—rubs Steve the wrong way. And he very carefully says, "Interrogations have never been my strong suit. Maybe you should've kept Agent Romanoff here instead."

"When we captured Loki last time, Agent Romanoff was able to extract from him his plans of unleashing the Hulk."

"He was willing to talk. He wanted to be captured," Steve responds somewhat defensively, feeling as if the director is chastising him for not jumping at the opportunity to interrogate Loki.

"Are you sure he didn't want to be captured this time?" Fury turns to glare at him knowlingly, and Steve sighs because he knows the director is right. At least this time.

"No, I don't"

"Agent Romanoff approached Loki with a lure," Fury continues, "a weakness he thought he could exploit. He underestimated her, and therefore, he lost. But he won't make the same mistake again."

Steve is finally putting two and two together. "So you want me to _lure_ him?" He winces at how inarticulate that sounded.

"Loki is an opportunist. Whatever the reason he is here—whether for revenge or to escape—if he sees a chance, he will not hesitate to take it. And that is how we get inside his head."

"I'm not sure if I'm the right man for the job." Steve isn't convinced, not at all.

"Kindness and morality are easy to exploit." Fury says with a small grin, challenging him.

The soldier responds stiffly. "I do not consider these a weakness."

"But Loki will."

Steve knows Fury is pressuring him, using every trick up his sleeve to convince Steve of his plans. He is manipulative, just like Loki or any villain. But unlike them, Fury has the interest of Earth in mind, and if Steve were forced to choose between two evils, he would rightfully stand by Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D.

The director grins because he knows Steve has made up his mind, but the super soldier gives no effort to hide his discontent. "This is not how I usually do things. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"Well, you can't always get what you want."

###

Steve reviews Loki's files because every battle needs a plan of attack. All the information are electronic, and Steve has to play around with the device—dragging and sliding the holographic images back and forth—before he finally gets the hang of it. Thankfully, Loki's history is brief, his life before the Chitauri invasion mostly a mystery with the exception of a few videoed reports from Thor. These were taken shortly after Loki's capture, when Thor had returned to ask Earth to preserve Loki's name.

Steve plays the file, and watches Thor as he sits uneasily before Fury, searching for the right words.

" _…I know not the decision of the All-Father, but until then, Loki remains a prince of Asgard. We take full responsibility of the destruction he has caused, and he will be punished accordingly by our laws. But today, I am here before you with not only apology but also appeal. In the name of the royal family of Asgard, I humbly request that Loki be spared from public disgrace, that Midgard would purge him from its history. We do not wish him remembered as simply an enslaver._ "

" _That is a lot to ask for_ ," Fury says, " _Considering the damage he had done. The people he had killed._ "

" _If you allow this one favor, Asgard will be in your debt. And in return, no race will harm Midgard as long as we stand._ "

" _And if we say no?_ "

" _Then I will be forced to be the bearer of bad news…_ "

Steve watches the rest of the video, as Fury weighs out the pros and the cons. Thor did not give him much of a choice. It would be foolish for Earth—being the backwater of the Universe—to make enemies when offered an opportunity for, maybe not alliance, but at least mutual regard. Fury very unwillingly agrees to the god's terms, and Thor appears surprisingly relieved.

Steve skips to another video of Thor, this time recollecting the events in Asgard that had lead to Loki's involvement with the Chitauri.

" _…Loki is my brother, though not by birth. I knew not of his adoption, and neither did he, until recently. Asgard had once waged war against the frost giants of Jötunheim, where our warriors had fought and won. In the aftermath of the last battle, father had ventured into a temple, where he had found an abandoned infant, left to die. Father brought him home, raised him as his own, my brother, Loki…_ "

Most of this, Steve had already learned from wading through paperwork after the war. But Thor's recollections are still surprisingly revealing—the worry in his eyes and the heaviness of his words reminding Steve that Loki is a brother, a son, and a prince of another realm. He had a life before he ruined those of so many others.

" _…I was banished to Midgard for my foolish pride." Thor continues. "And it was during my absence that Loki learned of his adoption, shortly before father fell into Odinsleep—a deep sleep he undertakes every year to renew his strength. Brother was given the throne in my absence, and he—in his fixation to validate himself in the eyes of our father—forged a plot to murder Laufey, the king of Jötenheim, his father by birth. I returned in time to end Loki's madness, destroying the Bifrost before it destroyed an entire race. Father awoke in time to save us from the fall but Loki—he let go…_ "

Thor's large hands clenches on the table as he bows his head. Fury gives him a few moments to collect himself.

Steve admits that Loki might not have had the easiest life, but then again, who's past isn't burdened with sadness? Loki could have chosen to be a hero just as rightfully as any of the Avengers. None of them have escaped heartbreak or loss. None of them have been saints either.

" _I know not what happened to my brother after his fall," Thor on the screen continues, "How he had obtained such power and the madness with which it came._ "

" _Are you suggesting he had help from friends?_ "

" _He could not have done this alone. But I do not know the circumstances of his alliance, or to whom he pledged loyalty._ "

" _Do not know, or are not willing to share?_ " Fury challenges, " _If our planet is still under alien threat I want to—_ "

" _Your planet is safe._ " Despite the good intent, Thor sounds more threatening than anything. " _Midgard is under my father's protection as well as mine. The consequences of Loki's actions will be ours to bear alone._ "

The video ends then, and Steve thinks this is hardly reassuring. There are so many much larger forces at work when dealing with Loki's fate—realms and races Steve has never heard of, capable of more destruction than he can imagine. Only recently did the people of Earth even realize that they weren't alone, that aliens like Thor existed, whom they had considered mythical gods. The Avengers will do everything in their power to protect the Earth, but beyond Earth exists a universe completely out of their league. And Steve hopes they won't have to face those dangers until they're ready.

He shuffles through the rest of the videos, mostly surveillance footages from when they had captured Loki the first time. Steve watches Natasha's interrogation, and can't help but to be in awe of the way she falls into her roles so gracefully, perfectly.

" _It's really not that complicated,_ " the spy says, sitting face to face with the grinning god " _I've got red on my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out._ "

" _Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?_ " Loki taunts her.

" _Drakov's daughter, San Paulo, the hospital fire? Your ledger is dripping. It's gushing red._ " He brings up the worst of her past.

" _You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!_ " He tries to destroy the very foundation on which she stood.

" _I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear._ " He aims for where he could hurt her most—love, vulnerability, the raw, honest desire for another human being.

Loki's face contorts as he towers over her, as Natasha turns away from him, horrified. " _And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!_ "

But of course, it had all been a ruse with Natasha emerging the victor, completely unscathed and even poised enough to end it with a taunt. She walks away with the god searching after her, expression completely unguarded.

Steve imagines what he might've done if he had been in Natasha's position. He doubts he could've walked away so cleanly and effortlessly if Loki had taunted him about losing Peggy, or blamed him for Bucky's death. He wonders how much Loki knows of his past, how many weaknesses he has found just itching to be exploited when chance comes. At least, Steve can brace himself for the worst, even if those memories still hurt like salt on an open would. He looks at Loki's frozen image and wonders how he's going to do this. How can he crack the god's perfect mask when even Natasha can no longer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading until now! Leave a comment if you've enjoyed it so I know I'm doing something right..or a critique if I'm doing something wrong. Till next time!


	4. Liars

It's early in the morning on the fourth day. Loki's hair is damp and curling from the shower they allowed him (prisoner, alien, former leader of an invasion, or not—he still has his basic rights). Everything is under surveillance, including his showers. Steve had watched Loki pull his shirt above his head. No more cuts and scrapes from the glass, and the bruises around his neck have dulled to a pale greenish yellow. A long line of stitches are still visible along his ribs, angrily red but mostly healed, otherwise. Even without his Asgardian strength, Loki seems to heal much faster than normal humans, which is useful to note. Steve had the common decency not to look any further, as Loki removed the rest of his clothes as much as his chains would allow, before stepping under the spray of the water.

Steve is a lousy liar. He simply cannot feign _anything_ —voice too honest, face too expressive. Don't ever play poker, Tony had once advised when the soldier failed to hide his complete and utter shock when a sultry waitress slipped her number into his breast pocket.

So he doesn't know why the director thought he could do this—purposely pitied him in an obvious mismatch of mind games and lies. Despite his good efforts, he had failed to come up with anything convincing, other than to purely be himself. This is probably what Fury wanted all along, but it still doesn't feel quite enough.

Steve approaches Loki after the god was returned to his cell. Loki senses his presence immediately, straightening his back and smoothing his hands over the fabric on his knees, just as Steve steps into view. The god watches him with unwavering eyes.

"Hey," Steve says the most natural thing that comes to mind.

Loki grins slightly as if he can smell uncertainty on the soldier, but Steve doesn't care if he comes off as naive or outright gullible—that's the whole point, isn't it? Maybe he doesn't have to act at all.

"Has the burden of appealing to my senses fallen upon you today?"

"If you want to call it that."

"Who should I expect tomorrow, then?" Loki tilts his head. "The green monster? Barton threatening to shoot an arrow into my skull?"

"No, just me from now on. If you don't mind." Steve furrows his brows. Something is definitely not right because Loki is talking, initiating even, and _smiling_ —that's never a good sign.

"Ah." The god's expression opens briefly in revelation. "I see. Your team has dispersed. I guess I have failed to monopolize their attention."

So it begins, the mental war. Steve apparently has lost the first round and inwardly kicks himself for giving away such a blatant weakness. Good thing no one is watching them on the screen upstairs, otherwise his ears might turn red. "I'm still here," he responds sternly, "And I'm more than enough, so don't get any ideas."

Loki's eyes glint as if Steve's mere presence has woken the mischief he has decisively subdued for the past few days. But this must mean everything is all going according to plan, the soldier inwardly cringes. Loki will try to manipulate him, but Steve won't be fooled, and that's how they get inside his head. What could possibly go wrong?

"So besides me," the god continues, "What else troubles your tiny planet, so that the heroes must scatter?"

"That hole into space you left above my apartment, for starters." Steve frowns.

"Oh, it's still there?" Loki raises an elegant eyebrow, and Steve thinks that this _has_ to stop. He can't allow their roles in this interrogation to be reversed any further.

"I'm supposed to be asking you questions, not the other way around," he says a little too defensively.

Loki tilts his chin to look at the soldier through half-lidded eyes, almost as if Steve had given him a choice to contemplate over. "Very well," he finally decides, "You may ask your questions."

"That easy?"

"I will answer them, within reason. And in return, you will answer mine."

Steve tries to hide his disbelief. Loki is up to something, undoubtedly and _obviously_ , and making no effort into even hiding the fact. Three days have passed since his capture, and he has waited until now—this moment which he probably deemed most appropriate—to reveal his true intentions, to just Steve. The Avengers have dispersed with only the soldier remaining, and Steve wonders whether Loki had been waiting for him all a long, that Fury was right to send him.

The god waits patiently for a response, challenging Steve to reject his offer while knowing that the soldier can't.

"You had three days before today to inform Agent Romanoff and Director Fury," Steve says sourly, not wanting Loki to take him for a complete idiot. "Why are you telling me now?"

"Do not flatter yourself," the god counters easily, "I needed time to make a decision, and you were the first to come to me since."

"What decision?" Steve very cautiously asks.

"To what extent," Loki picks his words with care, "Will I allow myself to be…helped."

"You want us to help you." Steve stares at him in disbelief.

"Or do you wish instead to keep me here against my will, asking meaningless questions that are no concern of mine."

Steve feels his anger rising. "Do you even realize that your _mere_ presence puts our planet—"

"The welfare of your planet is last on my mind." Loki promptly cuts him off. "I intend to leave it in peace."

"So what do you want, then?"

Loki hesitates for a moment, before answering. "To return to Asgard."

"You want to return to Asgard."

"Is that not what I said?"

"I don't believe you." Steve says, his tone flat, and Loki appears to stiffen.

"What is so hard to believe, Captain?" The god sneers, self-righteously and royally. "I grew up in Asgard. Everything I am familiar with is in Asgard. Perhaps I wish to return because redemption waits for me, because I seek absolution for the destruction I have caused in my poor judgment."

"Do you mean that?" Steve wavers, and immediately regrets when Loki's face splits into a grin, suggesting anything but. God of lies, Steve reminds himself, Silver-tongue, do not believe anything.

"I waited three days for them to find me." Loki pushes back a strand of unruly hair that has fallen over his eyes. "I knew Midgard lacks the technology to send me back, but I thought perhaps you had developed some method of communication at least, since my _enlightening_ visit. I suppose I overestimate your capabilities."

"Wait, so no one knows you're here." Steve suddenly realizes—finally, _finally_ concluding something since the start of their conversation.

"No."

"So, why _are_ you here?"

Loki doesn't respond.

"If you want us to believe you." Steve crosses his arms. "And help you with whatever you need help with. Maybe you should start answering some of our 'meaningless' questions."

Loki presses his lips together, his eyes briefly searching. "Very well. Although, may I ask for you to return tomorrow?"

"I'd be less inclined to believe you, if you're asking for time to think about your answers."

Loki laughs quietly, and it's a peculiar sound—airy but undoubtedly sad. He swings his legs over the span of the cot in one fluid motion so that he is lying on his back, staring contemplatively at the ceiling. Steve thinks back on the past three days—how Loki preferred silence to taunts, how he rested in his cell, tense and pensive.

"Sometimes, Captain," the god finally says as he turns his back towards the soldier, his spine curving like that of a cat. "Truths are difficult to utter, while lies are not."

###

"You're kidding me!" Tony sputters out tiny chunks of Thai food. Both Bruce and Steve grimace at the sight. "He _wants_ to go back to _Asgard_."

"Word for word." Steve says.

"Did you tell Fury that?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, good. Then, I don't have to explain to you how that's complete bullshit."

Steve has dinner with Tony and Bruce almost every night since moving into the tower. Pepper is away for an exhibition which Tony had stubbornly refused to attend himself, while Clint and Natasha are completing their assignment in some small Eastern European country. That leaves only Captain America, Ironman, and the Hulk in New York City, and Steve surprisingly doesn't mind having dinner those these two because Bruce has almost a natural talent in subduing Tony—like a horse-whisperer to a horse—and Tony can be surprisingly bearable when it is just them. Although, Bruce and Tony do break out into science-speak from time to time, Steve doesn't feel too left out because he's sure 99 percent of the population wouldn't be able to follow either.

"I'm not saying we should trust him completely," Steve sighs into his cup of water, "But we should at least hear what he has to say."

"Don't be fooled by those pleading eyes and sultry voice, Captain Righteous." Tony swallows a mouthful of Pad Thai. "He is _using_ you."

"You're probably right." Steve rubs wearily at his forehead. "But that's the point. Fury _wants_ Loki to use me—or at least make him think he can."

"That's dangerous, you know?" Bruce joins the conversation for the first time.

"I'm not _actually_ going to believe everything he says. Just enough for him to...open up," Steve says defensively. Just because he's from the 40s doesn't mean he's all chivalry and apple pies. He had grown up during dark times and fought during the Second World War, and he knows evil just as much as the rest of them. Just because he had agreed to listen doesn't mean he'd believe. "And besides," he continues, "I only have to keep this up until Thor comes to take him away."

"Speaking of which," Bruce says as he turns to Tony, "How is that coming along?"

Tony frowns against his bottle of beer. "I thought I heard something, but I'm not entirely sure. The reception is awful. I have no idea what kind of waves I'm picking up. But I'm hoping they're the right waves at least. If Thor comes back and tells me that he smashed the receiver I gave him—and all this time, I've been trying to decipher random space noise—I swear I will strangle him."

Tony's animation draws out a chuckle from Steve, before the soldier turns to the doctor. "And how's that…portal thing…above my apartment?"

The doctor winces a little as he rubs at the back of his neck. "We haven't made much progress yet, but at least it hasn't spread. If you take away the clouds, the tear itself is actually really small. Professor Selvig and his associates will be flying in. Coulson finally managed to locate them somewhere in the Andes Mountains, so they will be joining us within the next few days, which is good. They're the experts in these sorts of things, after all." Bruce smiles knowingly. "And perhaps, Jane Foster can also assist in reaching Thor."

"Who's Jane Foster?" Steve asks. The name rings a bell, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

"And why would she be able to contact Thor?" Tony adds defensively. He has been working on communicating with Asgard for months now, and therefore, no one should be more qualified than he is.

"Jane Foster had been working with Selvig when Thor fell to earth through the wormhole they had been tracking," Bruce says with a hint of amusement in his voice, leaning closer to the other two men as if whispering a secret. "And according to Phil, Ms. Foster happens to be Thor's _Midgardian_ girlfriend."

"You're _joking_." Steve's jaw drops as Tony chokes on beer.

"Is she like some 300 pound female bodybuilder?" The scientist manages once he clears his lungs.

"No, no, a scientist," Bruce responds quickly, before finding a photo of Ms. Foster on his phone. It seems as if the doctor had been waiting all day to share this piece of gossip. "She's quite lovely. Not to mention incredibly intelligent—"

"In other words, she's the anti-Thor," Tony says dryly.

"Don't get any ideas, Tony." Bruce chides in good humor, and Tony feigns a look of complete appall.

"Make a move on Thor's girl? No, thank you," the scientist dignifies, "I happen to be a strict follower of the bro code, for your information. And I'd rather not have Thor smash my skull like a melon. Also, my playboy days are over. If Pepper asks, this reason precedes all the ones I listed before."

Steve laughs as he takes Bruce's phone to get a better look at Jane Foster, all the while making a mental note of looking up 'bro code' in his spare time. The doctor is right. Ms. Foster is young and delicately pretty, and her eyes shines nothing short of fierce determination. It's odd imagining her with Thor, but who is he to judge. Maybe opposites really do attract.

"I wonder what happened between those two," Bruce muses.

"She may be a woman of science, but that doesn't make her any less of a woman." Tony helpfully offers his theory, equipped with suggestive eyebrow wiggles to boot.

"Oh, please stop." Steve winces at the innuendo, and the scientist rolls his eyes in response.

"Sorry, grandpa. Forgot you're still up."

They discuss rather neutral topics throughout the remainder of the meal, before Tony slinks away to his lab, leaving the other two to clear the table. Steve thinks of tomorrow, of his imminent encounter with the god of lies, as he slides a few plates into the dishwasher. If he had wanted to be thorough with his research, he would have looked through Thor's files as well. But such an act seemed like an awful invasion of privacy, considering Thor is a teammate and a friend. (Steve wouldn't want Tony or Bruce to needlessly dig into his own past, even though his stories are probably the most public out of all of theirs). Still, Steve's overactive conscience can rarely be fooled, and he supposes that it's okay because if he really wanted to know more about Thor, he'd rather hear it from Jane (if she is willing to share) because she is human, and she cares for Thor, and her honest voice will offer Steve much more insight than the factual detachedness of a report.

"Ms. Foster will be extremely busy once she arrives," Steve says absent-mindedly.

"Yeah?" Bruce hums as he dries his hands on a towel.

"Between Tony's lab and that portal downtown, I don't know when I'd get a chance to ask her anything. Do you think Thor mentioned anything about Loki to her?"

Bruce shrugs. "I don't see why not. She's his girlfriend, and he's his brother. Family's bound to come up in conversation—although, Loki might be the type of family you'd want to avoid mentioning."

"Yeah," Steve sags his shoulders as he leans against the kitchen counter. Fury had been quite pleased with the progress he had made with Loki in just one day, but Steve still feels as if something is not quite clicking, that the god has the upper hand.

"Like you said before," Bruce assures him before stepping out to follow Tony into the lab. "We just need to keep Loki out of trouble until Thor comes. You don't actually need to figure out—" Bruce makes a face as he waves a vague gesture "—what's going on in that scrambled mess."

"Yeah," Steve smiles in return. Although if he's perfectly honest, he is at least a little bit curious to know what exactly is the god is hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is love and motivation. Until next time!


	5. Mutual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of wikia reading was involved in the makings of this chapter. Hope you all enjoy :)

"You look tense, Captain."

"Uhh," Steve says intelligently, eyes involuntarily flickering to one of the cams hovering above them.

"Oh, we're being watched." The god calmly concludes. "Because I have agreed to answer your questions, I am suddenly of interest again."

It's only their second encounter since the god's capture, and Steve is already growing tired of the way Loki can soak up information like a sponge, and look right through Steve as if the soldier were made of glass. Fury is probably fuming in the conference room upstairs, taking Loki's flippant remarks as personal insults.

But Steve knows better than turn this into a competition, because Loki is keener and smoother, almost flaunting his clever deductions to remind his capturers that he is not to be taken lightly. And Steve does not intent to challenge his intellect. He was assigned to Loki for a reason, and what the soldier really needs to focus on is doing his job properly, protecting the Earth at all costs. If he has to lose a few battles of wits in the process, then so be it.

"Do you mind the cameras?" Steve decides, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.

"Do I have a choice?"

"If you agree to cooperate, we will do our best to meet your preferences."

"How considerate." Loki smiles thinly. "Although, you seem more apprehensive than I am, with regards to being watched."

"Yeah, well, this is hardly about me," Steve rubs at the back of his neck, before opting to return the conversation back to its intended topic. "So you're ready to tell us why you're here?"

Loki looks at him pensively for a moment, and Steve waits and wonders just how much truth he can expect coming from the god of lies.

"How much has Thor revealed of Asgard and of me?"

"Nothing." Although that's definitely not true, so Steve decides to add, "At least, I don't know much."

Loki frowns with a hint of frustration, and Steve doesn't know if it's entirely directed towards him.

"As you may or may not know," Loki begins carefully, as if testing the waters, "A minor altercation between Thor and myself resulted in the demolition of the Bifrost, the bridge linking Asgard to the rest of the realms, making travel difficult."

Steve nods.

"And now, an abyss lies in its wake," the god continues, "Through which I was thrown."

"I thought you let go yourself," Steve says and realizes his mistake immediately, as blood rushes to his neck and ears.

"So you do know something about me," Loki's lips twist into a wry smile, although insincere but still lack the usual malice. "Lying does not suit you, Captain."

"I—" Steve falters, wondering whether he should apologize or justify himself, although both options seem absurd. Eventually, he decides to swallow his embarrassment in silence, and focus on the god instead, who obviously is stalling. "Again, this is hardly about me. If you want our help, then ask nicely. If you want us to believe you, tell the truth."

"I do speak the truth." Loki stares back with stubborn defiance. "I was thrown into the abyss—this second time at least—which is why I am before you now."

Steve knits his brows together, searching the god's face for any flicker of doubt. "Who did it?"

"A past enemy of yours. A current enemy of Asgard," Loki says without much care, but Steve can tell that he's hiding something darker, that he's talking in circles and riddles to avoid the real issue. "And as of now, a recent enemy of mine."

"The Chitauri." The soldier concludes, and Loki responds with a single nod.

"I'm guessing the friendship faltered since the invasion," Steve says dryly, and almost regrets it when the god tenses. But then, he remembers the vigils still held in Central Park, the little boy and his father and the bouquet of lilies, and decides that a little reprimand is nothing compared to what Loki actually deserves.

"It was fragile to begin with," Loki admits with a small frown, "as most of my alliances are."

"Then why do you want to go back to Asgard?"

"I don't suppose _you_ have the ability to remove these," Loki's features flashes in annoyance, as he wrings his chains for emphasis. "Not even Thanos could, although I'd rather not give him the opportunity to test his abilities."

"Who's Thanos?"

Loki scowls in frustration. "Do you honestly not know, or is this all so you can match my words to Thor's."

"Believe it or not," Steve tries to placate the god, or at least keep the conversation in civil atmosphere, "Thor tells us surprisingly little about Asgard, past or present."

"He told you of my fall." The god is quick to counter, voice bitter.

"Well, that was important."

"And you think Thanos is not?"

Steve shrugs. "Maybe not compared to you, his little brother."

"Thor is not my brother," Loki says menacingly, face contorting in rage, and Steve is taken off guard by the sudden surge of emotion.

"I—" The solder stumbles over his words, but decides that this is definitely _not_ an argument he wants to get into, not now at least (or ever if he has a choice in the matter). "You're right. I'm sorry."

Loki looks briefly unshielded, the apology probably the last thing he had expected from the soldier. He doesn't respond right away, so Steve decides to nudge the conversation along in the intended direction. Whether purposefully or not, Loki is still leading them on tangents.

"From now on, we should focus, because you need to tell us what's going on." Steve reminds the god. "Who's Thanos, and why is he so important?"

Loki takes a few moments casting the right words, before explaining to the soldier of the dead dimension where Thanos rules and the Chitauri army which serves him. "No one knew of this realm—not even Odin—until recently, but I suspect—"

"Why did you do it?" Steve cuts him off in mid-sentence, because as generous as Loki is with answers right now, he is still speaking too quickly, breezing through details that might actually be important, might offer some insight into whether the Avengers can trust him or not.

"Pardon me?"

"Why did you form an alliance with them after your fall?"

Loki waves a flippant hand. "I needed an army and a realm to rule. Thanos needed the Tesseract. Mutual benefit, nothing more."

Steve doubts that this is the whole story, but the god seems unwilling to elaborate.

"And now that Asgard is in possession of the Tesseract," Loki brings the conversation back to the present, "Thanos will redirect all of his resources to breaking into Odin's vault. And if he succeeds, it will not only be the Tesseract in his possession—let's just say Odin has a multitude of dangerous trinkets locked up in the heart of Asgard."

"So why aren't you helping Thanos anymore?"

"Because Asgard is my home," Loki mocks.

"If you're going to tell the truth, don't make it sound like a lie," Steve says sternly.

The god rolls his eyes, but opts to move on. "Every year, Odin falls into a state of deep sleep in order to regenerate his power. During this time, he is left vulnerable, and Thanos would be foolish to forgo this opportunity to attack."

"When's the next time he'll fall asleep?"

"Any day now, I suspect. If Thanos dared to send even a small fleet, Odin must be growing weak."

"Asgard is already under attack?" Steve's eyes widen.

"Yes, but fear not for your world." Loki seems slightly exasperated from Steve's constant interruptions. "None of Odin's relics have been lost. That was not the purpose of the invasion."

"Then what?"

"Thanos freed me from my prison. He had come for me."

"You said you guys were enemies."

"We are, but with or without my consent, he needs me." Loki frowns, fingers running absent-mindedly along the links of his chains. "Thanos has the incredible power to awaken one's hidden potential, but he himself lacks the magic of a true sorcerer. If it had not been for me, the portal between Midgard and the realm of the dead would never have opened. The energy from the Tesseract could have liberated him from his dependence on my magic. Had he harnessed its power, he could have used brute force to tear into any dimension he wished—And Asgard, with its multitude of resources, would have been his primary focus."

"And you were fine with that?" Steve tries his best to wrap his mind around the twists and turns of Loki's logic, as convoluted and conflicting as they are.

"I did not care then, whether Asgard stood or not."

"So what changed?"

Loki's eyes flicker of sadness and mistrust, but the transient emotions were soon replaced with nonchalance and lies. "Personal interest. Odin has locked away my magic within these chains, and only he can break the curse. Perhaps I can convince him to free me, if I were to fight for the good name of Asgard."

"You think he'd buy that?"

Loki shrugs, making no effort to feign sincerity. "Depends on how desperate he is."

Steve doubts the entirety of his reasons, but he decides not to push Loki further if these pseudo-interrogations are going to be part of a daily routine. There s always going to be tomorrow, after all.

The soldier decides that it's probably more beneficial if they return a topic that the god is more willing to elaborate on. Something regarding the present seems safer. "You said you were thrown."

"Yes. Thanos threw me into the abyss after he had freed me."

"I thought he needed you."

Loki's steady eyes fall to Steve's briefly, as if to assess the cards being dealt, before deciding on the best (if not true) answer. "Thanos forced his way into Asgard, using the abyss as a weak link in the border between dimensions. Needless to say, he and I are not on the best of terms. For some unfathomable reason, he deems me responsible for the impotence of his own army, and believes I owe him his biddings henceforth. Therefore, threw me into the crude portal he had carved out, where his army waited on the other side."

"So how come you ended up on Earth?"

"Chance." Loki responds dismissively, "His portal was unstable and unrefined. So unfortunately for him, I fell to Earth instead of my intended destination."

"So does that mean the Chitauri are coming back here to get you?"

"Yes, but not in the immediate future. Thanos will need time to restore his energy. And he will need time to find me first."

Steve inhales a deep breath as his stomach clenches. " _Yesterday_ , you said you will leave Earth in peace."

"I do intend to," Loki says righteously, and Steve had to call upon all of his legendary patience not to lash out at the god. "But if you keep me here long enough for Thanos to find me, then I make no such promise."

"Four days. You had four days to tell us—"

"Asgard had four days to retrieve me, five counting today," Loki glowers with defiance, "If I had any other choice, I would not have sought help from you."

Steve licks his lips in apprehension, wondering what Fury's take on the situation is. "What should we do?"

"Contact Asgard. Seal that portal through which I fell. Though, I am sure you have already thought of that on your own. My words should change nothing with regards to your plans, but I do offer a new sense of urgency."

"How long do we have?"

"I do not know for sure. Three weeks? A month? I would not gamble beyond that."

"I don't believe this." Steve buries his face into his hands, muffling the end of the sentence. The Chiauri could invade Earth because of Loki, _again_. And even though the god is their intended target, who knows what collateral damage the city might suffer, how many innocent people could die in the crossfire—Loki, _Loki_ , he brings trouble wherever he goes. Steve should be rightfully angry with him.

"The sooner you return me to Asgard," the god repeats, his voice soft and almost consolatory, "The sooner your planet will be safe."

"And you?" Steve doesn't know why he asked this, perhaps out of common decency because Loki—even if this is entirely his fault—could also be hurt in the end.

Loki's lips curve into a wry smile, and Steve realizes that the god does this often when they speak, when Steve says something border lining considerate (or stupid). The soldier wonders if Loki is mocking him, if he finds it amusing that Steve would feel some degree of sympathy even for a mass murderer. He doesn't dwell on this for long because Loki's voice suddenly resonates with unbelievable sadness, and Steve doesn't know what to think anymore.

"To be at the mercy of Thanos, or that of Odin? How can I possibly choose? Although, perhaps, there is more for me in Asgard than I had previously thought."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks absently.

A flash of darkness contorts Loki's features before everything is once again behind a perfect mask. The soldier knows that the conversation is over before the god even responds. "We have been speaking for a long time, Captain, and I grow weary."

Steve tries to look into Loki's eyes for any hint of reassurance, but the god turns away, smoothing his hand over the fabric of his cot. "I would like to rest, if you do not mind."

The soldier sighs before moving to stand. His questions are far from being answered, but he decides to let it go for now. It will take much more than a day to fully understand the complexity of this mess that Loki has gotten himself into (as well as three other realms that all probably want his head). But at least, Loki is being cooperative and is talking, although the degree of truth in those words is still up to debate. Steve needs to discuss this with Fury and the rest of the Avengers first, because right now, he doesn't know what to believe.

"We'll talk more about this tomorrow," he tells Loki before turning to leave.

The god responds with a single nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Propelling the plot along. Thanks for reading. Drop a comment if you liked it :)


	6. Portrait of a Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and continued support! Prepare yourself for a blooming friendship
> 
> Enjoy :)

"Your thoughts, gentlemen?" Fury asks as the screen fades to black. They had watched the surveillance video at least three times now, and Steve doesn't think a fourth will do them any more good at this point.

"How do we know Loki's not making it all up?" Tony eventually blurts out after the initial horror of potentially _another_ alien attack sizzles. "Thor's never mentioned anything about Thanos, has he?"

"It would be nice if he _were_ making it all up." Bruce rubs at his temples. The city had just managed to clear the debris from the first Chitauri invasion, and this second attack could very well undo everything they had worked for. It would be fear, desolation, and destruction all over again.

"So what's the plan?" Tony sighs. "Do we have a plan?"

"Loki wants to go back to Asgard." Steve says, figuring that this is at least a good starting point.

Fury arches a condescending eyebrow. "And you believe him?"

"I don't have a reason not to…yet."

"Other than it's Loki we're dealing with." Tony quips.

"Why would he lie about this though?" Steve points out. Everyone seems so focused on what Loki is hiding that no one is paying attention to what the god is actually willing to say. Not that Steve believes Loki entirely either, but if they were going to resolve this, they need to consider both ends of the argument.

"Maybe to lure us into a false sense of security." Tony props his feet up on the table as he offers his theory, despite Fury's glare. "So we'd think he's on our side."

"If those were actually his motives, there are more believable lies he could have told."

"Like what? That he's _sorry_ or something?" Tony snorts, "Compared to another alien attack, which would you believe more?"

Steve frowns, because both reasons do seem equally unlikely. But there's something different about Loki that Steve doesn't want to brush off as simply a trick. Sure, the god has shown no hint of remorse towards the many who had died months ago, but at least, he's not angry or insane or trying to make matters worse, considering the Chitauri can very well destroy New York if they do come after him. Loki claims he wants to return to Asgard with as little trouble as possible, and certainly, even the god of mischief and lies knows when to tell the truth, if that's the only benefit there is.

"You know, he could have chosen something harder to disproof," the soldier eventually adds, "Right now, we can just verify with Thor whether Thanos really did attack Asgard. And he can tell us if Loki is lying or not, even before he gets here."

"Cap's got a point." Bruce taps his fingers against the table as he offers his thoughts, being the neutral party. "Before we decide anything, we need to find Thor."

"Fine, fine. Pressure's on me. I got it." Tony rolls his eyes, leaning back dangerously into his chair. "Skyping with Asgard isn't as easy as it sounds."

"Maybe you should swallow your gigantic ego and ask Jane for help." The doctor suggests.

" _Jane_?" Tony appears positively scandalized.

"Dr. Foster." Bruce corrects himself, faltering. "I'm allowed to call her that. We're acquainted."

"Dr. Foster is able to reach Thor?" Fury speaks suddenly.

"No," Bruce quickly answers, "But she might be able to offer some insight, being an expert in astrophysics."

"Then why isn't she working on communication with Asgard?"

"Tony doesn't play well with others." Bruce responds, to which Tony merely shrugs. "It's true."

"Well then, I hope the possibility of another alien invasion will provide you with some incentive." The director responds humorlessly, and Tony sighs in surrender.

"Fine, tell _Jane_ and Selvig they can stay in the tower, on Thor's floor."

"I think Pepper arranged for that already." Bruce informs.

Tony throws his hands in the air. "Why do I even bother having opinions?"

"Close the portal and contact Thor." Fury reiterates, signaling that their meeting is close to being adjourned. "Make those your top priorities, gentlemen. I will contact Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton on the status of their mission. From now on, be armed at all times. And Captain." Fury's one good eye focuses on Steve just as the soldier was forgetting he's still part of this conversation. "Stay with Loki—in the mornings, afternoons, as often as humanly possible without driving yourself insane. We need every bit of information he has to give."

Stepping out of the conference room, Steve thinks that the god is right about one thing at least. He hasn't changed any of their plans, just offered a new sense of urgency.

###

"The team," The soldier says as he stands once again before Loki's cell. "We had a long discussion yesterday."

"Have you reached a verdict?" The god sounds unimpressed.

"We're going to do everything we can to get you home as soon as possible."

"Asgard is not my home." Loki's jaws tighten, almost as if he hadn't planned to say it aloud, although he collects himself soon after. "But that does not matter. Who is in charge of arranging for my return?"

"That would be Tony, I guess," Steve answers, "He's working on contacting Thor."

"And how is his progress?"

The soldier hesitates. Tony has been working on communication with Asgard ever since Loki's capture at the end of last summer, but he project has been on and off because bigger and more important things always seem to come along. After Loki had crashed back to Earth again, this had been the first time Tony even looked at his blueprints in weeks. Steve thinks this is hardly reassuring and wonders if it's worth mentioning at all.

"Dismal at best, I presume." Loki concludes, "You do not have to answer me. I know you fear forgoing information about your primitive technology. Even if it is information I already am aware of."

"Yeah, well," the soldier shrugs, "I'm sure we'll be more efficient now that you've given us a reason to be."

"Perhaps you should allow me to help myself." Loki's eyes flick to his, assessing him, lips slightly parted as if he were testing his words. "Once I return to Asgard, all problems—both yours and mine—will be solved."

Loki knows it's a long shot, his shoulders tense half-expecting Steve to laugh at him or reprimand him, or both. The soldier smiles instead. "We can't just trust you and let you do whatever you want."

"Of course not," Loki says immediately, "Which is why I am allowing you to set your terms. What would I need to do to convince you?"

Steve wants to tell Loki that he is being unreasonable, because he had tried to take over the Earth, and he had killed so many people. There is no way the Avengers can ever trust him outside of glass prisons and 24/7 surveillance (and even then they don't trust him). But Loki is looking at him with such petulance and self-righteousness, almost as if he doesn't even realize just how out of line he is.

"You'll need to answer some more questions first," Steve opts for the softer approach rather than casting off the god right away. He needs Loki's cooperation, after all, and angering the god wouldn't have helped either of them.

Loki seems to think this fair as well, sitting straighter on the edge of his bed. No more cuts or bruises left by the sixth day. Even the stiches on his side are mostly faded. "Very well. What do you wish to know?"

"Thanos," Steve says, "What else can you tell me about him? What are his powers?"

"I know not of the extent of his abilities," the god responds calmly, voice steady despite the strain of his muscles, "I can only assume his physical strength, stamina, and durability is nothing short of an Asgardian. But what sets him apart is the incredible expanse of energy he is able to store and unleash at will."

"And he can travel through dimensions?"

"As of right now, only if there is already a tear, a weak spot, in time and space. Such as the abyss left by the Bifrost, or the hole above your living chambers through which I fell."

"I don't suppose you have any tips."

"I cannot help you without my magic." The god responds frankly, and Steve thinks it was worth a shot, at least.

"He is also capable of telepathic projections," Loki continues, "Although they are merely shadows of his true self, his projections are still very powerful and very real."

"Are they like your projections? The ones you made in Stuttgart?"

The god frowns. "Those were merely clones. The projections Thanos is capable of embodies his consciousness, allowing him to travel to places his real body cannot. They are far more powerful, and _useful_ , I regret to say."

Steve takes a few seconds to wrap his mind around the differences. "When Thanos broke you out, was it a projection?"

"Most likely."

"How can you tell?"

Loki gently touched his fingers to the pale span of his neck, where dark purple bruises had once bloomed. "These healed, didn't they?"

"And the wound on your side. Did he do that too?"

"Yes," Loki says bitterly, eyes hard and jaws clenching He stares at Steve challengingly, daring the soldier to pity him or to consider him a victim. And Steve looks back in near disbelief, because Loki is so goddamn proud, as if his dignity is the only thing he has left. And Steve can't help it, can't resist the knot in his stomach or the sympathy that must be so evident in his eyes.

He decides to change the subject instead. "What does Thanos look like?"

"Large," Loki seems slightly confused but answers the question nonetheless, "With grey-purple skin, a thick jaw—"

"Wait, hold on." Steve takes his sketchbook from his bag and sets it inside the crook of his elbow. He takes out a pencil as well. "Okay, continue."

The god pinches his brows together. "What are you doing?"

"I'll draw him, so we'll have a visual to work with." Steve drags his pencil in rough contours, sketching something resembling a face.

"That is not necessary." Loki looks at him with genuine bewilderment, head tilted to the side, and Steve almost wants to draw him instead, although he perishes the thought immediately. "You will not fail to recognize him," the god continues, "If you were ever unfortunate enough to meeting him in the first place."

"We need to know exactly what we're dealing with." Steve justifies his decision. "And having a decent picture of him—albeit a drawing—is a good place to start."

"Are there not professionals for this?" the god says dryly, and Steve is taken aback at how Loki can make him feel so self-conscious even without trying.

"I'm not going to draw stick figures, if that's what you're expecting." Steve takes a few steps towards the cell, until the edge of his book is nearly touching the transparent walls. "Come here. This isn't going to work if you're not watching."

Loki must have found the idea absurd, but complies without anymore snide remarks. He approaches Steve from the other side of the cell until they're face to face with only a pan of glass between them. They're nearly the same height, although Loki, despite the chains around his wrists and ankles, appears taller by regality alone.

Steve decides, at this moment, to sit down on the floor. Loki looks at him as if he has grown two heads. "I'm going to sit because this might take awhile. You're free to stand if you want."

Loki very unwillingly descends to his knees, glaring daggers at Steve the entire time for forcing him into such an strange situation. The soldier tries to cover up a smile as he shifts to lean against the glass sideways, so Loki will have a better view of the sketchbook.

"Purple skin, thick jaw, what else?"

"I've only seen him with his helmet on," Loki continues, "It frames his face, curves around the eyes and squares around the sides. Make his jaw wider and his eyes smaller. He has lines along his lips to his chin."

They spend a good hour on the portrait before Loki is finally satisfied. Thanos looks fearsome and grotesque, features very much resembling a skull and reminding Steve of the worst of evils.

"You should add color to this." Loki insists as he studies the drawing, expression dubious, "The fact that he is purple is an important detail."

"I'll make note of it before I show the rest of the team." Steve is faintly surprised by the god's request, sounding almost child-like in persistency. He hides his amusement as best as he can, doubting that the god would appreciate anything other than utmost seriousness.

He moves to stand, but Loki stops him. "Wait, there's one more."

"One more?"

"They call him the Other, a subordinate of Thanos who acts as his messenger. He is hooded so that his eyes are hidden. There is metal around his lips and chin, and his mouth is red like blood."

Steve turns to a blank page before setting lead against paper again, hand moving skillfully and delicately to every detail Loki offers. They spend another hour sitting side by side with only a glass wall in between.

"Is there anyone else?" Steve asks as he rests his pencil. Loki hasn't made any more suggestions, which Steve assumes to mean that the portrait is complete. The Other is smaller than Thanos but hideously formed and just as terrifying, and the soldier wonders how Loki even managed to find such terrible allies.

"Yes," Loki answers, voice barely a whisper, which snaps Steve from his thoughts, "A woman."

Steve draws the woman Loki describes—elegant and fair and agelessly beautiful—blond hair long and curling, cheek bones high, jaw strong and resolute, and eyes wise but kind. He listens to Loki without ever meeting his eyes, takes in the softness of his voice, and sadness like wilted lilies and wingless butterflies.

"Who is she?" Steve asks as he darkens the shadow below the perfect arch of her brow.

Loki doesn't respond.

"Is she from Asgard?" Steve had realized a long time ago that this woman—whoever she might be—has nothing to do with Thanos or the dimension of the dead.

"Yes."

The soldier sets his pencil down and returns his focus to the god, but Loki doesn't seem to notice, transfixed by the portrait in Steve hands. The soldier sighs and asks the obligatory questions Fury would have wanted him to no matter the circumstances. "Does she possess any threat to the safety of our planet?"

"No."

"Then you can keep it, if you want."

"What?" That catches Loki's attention, as the god furrows his brows, green eyes meeting blue with strange curiosity.

Steve pushes himself up into a standing position before walking towards he panel of controls beside the entrance to the cell. He probably shouldn't do this, and Fury will probably reprimand him later, but he dials the passcode nonetheless. The glass doors of the cell part just long enough for him to step through. He walks over to where Loki is still seated before kneeling down before him. He carefully tears the drawing of the woman out of his book.

Loki stares at him, eyes flickering with a mixture of confusion, doubt, skepticism, and disbelief—more emotion than Steve has ever seen coming from the god.

"Here, it's yours," Steve gestures for him to take the drawing, "You can throw it out if you don't like it. I won't take offense."

Loki smiles thinly, raising a tentative hand in acceptance. "You are quite the artist, Captain. I am pleasantly surprised."

"Thanks, I guess," Steve feels a blush creep to his cheeks. He can never accept compliments gracefully—not from friends or strangers—and certainly not from Loki, as unexpected as it may be.

The soldier moves to stand, eyes never leaving the seated god. Loki has the drawing smoothed against his lap, his fingers gingerly against the edges as if the paper could burst into flames any moment.

"We'll talk more tomorrow, alright?" Steve says as he prepares to exit.

"Tomorrow," Loki repeats, without meeting his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading until now! Till next time~


	7. Team Science

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, needed to take the weeks off because of finals. Updates will be much more regular now, no worries.
> 
> And I would like to apologize in advance to any physics people who might be reading. My science-speak must be atrocious…haha;;
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy~

Pepper is the perfect hostess—open and generous and undoubtedly sincere, radiating smiles and warmness even during the chill brisk of dawn. Tony contrarily couldn't be any worse of a host—snappish and rude and arguably inebriated, sitting alone at the island in the kitchen while his better half entertained their guests over breakfast.

"What's the matter with you?" Steve asks as he takes out a carton of orange juice and pours himself a glass. "Why are you by yourself…sulking?

"I am not sulking," Tony grumbles, eyes not meeting Steve's. "I am a man, and men brood. I'm _brooding_."

"Okay…" Steve says slowly as he follows Tony's gaze to the crowded kitchen table. Erik Selvig and Jane Foster flown in late last night. After Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Pepper had helped their guests into Thor's floor, both parties agreed to save the brainstorming and debates after a good night's sleep.

And now, at the peak of dawn, Jane and Selvig are seated on one side of the table, with Bruce and Pepper on the other. Jane and Bruce are directly across from each other, appearing to be deep in conversation.

"So this isn't the whole team?" Steve hears Bruce say in his usual gentle, raspy tone.

"No," Jane smiles, "My assistant Darcy is back at the university working on her final thesis. So you can only imagine her disappointment. She really wanted to meet the Avengers."

Bruce laughs. "Not quite. We're not exactly assembled ourselves."

"If a portal into outer space doesn't propel you guys to assemble, then I don't know what will."

"When aliens start crawling through it probably." Bruce gives a lop-sided grin. "But we're hoping it won't come to that. For now, we just need some advice from the experts. I've read your recent publication on the two-particle space correlations, and I must say—your model is so elegantly simple but brilliant at the same time—I was blown away."

Jane laughs slightly and appears to blush. Tony is gripping onto his mug so tightly it could crack. And something in Steve's brain finally clicks.

"I don't believe it. You're jealous."

Tony whips his head around and glowers at the soldier so intensely that he can almost feel the figurative hole being bore into his skull. "I've lead the primary energy industry for the past three years," the disgruntled scientist all but hisses, "I'm responsible for the most prominent breakthroughs in clean energy of our century. I've even created a new element! Unlike ogling at space dust through a high-powered microscope, _my_ work actually helps people."

"So what are you saying?" Steve glares at the petulant scientist. "No one deserves praise other than you?"

"No, that would be unreasonable," Tony responds stiffly, "But praise should be rationed accordingly to those who deserve it, and Bruce almost never says anything that nice to me."

"What are you, five years old?" Steve cries out, just as Coulson walks through the automatic doors.

"Good morning Phil," Pepper greets the agent. "Help yourself to some eggs and toast."

"Uh," Tony clears his throat, "Since when did my tower become a walk-in bed and breakfast?"

"I have your assignments for today." Phil says promptly.

"Is it actually different from yesterday's?" Tony cocks a brow.

"In fact yes, now that Dr. Selvig and Dr. Foster are here."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until after breakfast," Pepper cuts in, all smiles, "Please join us, Steve. Tony."

The scientist grumbles before making his way to the table with the soldier following in suit. Breakfast ends in twenty minutes but the conversation doesn't, and Steve can only stare in awe at what he assumes is the natural result of having four scientists together at a meal. He exchanges puzzled glances with Pepper and Phil, who merely smile and shrug.

"You can't possibly prove that!" Tony slams his mug on the table, black coffee splashing over the edges.

"It's hard to proof, but it makes sense." Dr. Selvig comes to his former student's defense.

"Just imagine them as channels of energy with the Bifrost as a sink, ignore the general relativity for now—" Jane is drawing on a piece of napkin a series of circles, which Steve can only assume as planets.

"You want me to ignore _relativity_?" Tony sounds absolutely appalled. "What about the laws of space-time? Maybe we should just forget about _physics_ all together."

"You know, Tony," Bruce quips in softly, "The fact that there's a portal above Steve's apartment means that some physics must be broken."

"Oh, _of course_ ," Tony throws his hands in the air. 'Take their side!"

The doctor shakes his head. "I'm just being respectful since this is their field of research. I'd rather listen to them than someone who crammed everything into his head the night before."

"The laws of physics aren't broken," Jane says with resolve, hair spilling over her shoulders as she leans to place the napkin before an unimpressed Tony, "It only seems broken because we don't understand it fully. Our laws might be absolute on earth, but elsewhere, they're clearly not. Thor has showed me—"

"You learned this from Thor?"

"Yeah." Jane furrows her brows. "So?"

"That's cheating." Tony points an accusing finger. "You didn't even figure this out yourself!"

"Good grief!" Bruce buries his face in his hands. "Why does it even matter?"

"Will you just sit down and let her finish?" Selvig huffs.

"It's too convenient. I don't like it." Tony crosses his arms stubbornly, "You can't just change any laws you want just so your model can work."

"I'm sure there are details behind the mechanisms that Thor would gladly explain," Jane narrows her eyes, "Or would that be cheating?"

"I think that's your queue, Tony," Bruce laughs uneasily, "Even more of a reason to contact Asgard—besides the possible destruction of our planet."

"No need," Tony counters easily, "Fury has Loki locked up in his basement. We can ask him right now. I bet he knows."

"You'd rather trust the words of that lunatic?" Dr. Selvig appears to stiffen, reminding Steve and everyone that the old professor had been one of Loki's pawns, and he must suffer from the same terrors as Clint at the mention of the god's name.

"No," Steve says as all heads turn to him with varying degrees of surprise, as if they had forgotten he was still part of this conversation. "Now is not the time to be arguing among ourselves. We need to set our priorities straight. The earth is in danger, and that's why we're here. Dr. Selvig, I apologize in advance if you weren't notified that Loki is captured at base—"

"No, no," Selvig laughs shakily, "I was well aware, and I came anyway. As long as I don't have to be anywhere near that monster, I'll be fine."

"You won't," Coulson joins in, "You and Jane will be working downtown at the site of the portal, most likely."

"I'm the only one assigned to Loki," Steve assures the old professor, "If you ever have questions for him, I will ask on your behalf."

"Actually, Cap," Phil interjects, "For today at least, you won't be."

"What?" Steve arches his brows. "Why not?"

"Natasha and Clint are too deep undercover to pull back, so this will be the new team for now, and the Director thinks it might be best for everyone to get to know each other first. You will all be going downtown in the morning where Bruce will explain the details of the portal, and return here in the afternoon, where Tony will share his progress in contacting Asgard."

"Oh," Steve says, feeling very much like a fish out of water. As much as he values team building, he doubts he will be able to contribute any more than a few nods of the head in a laboratory setting.

"So what should we call ourselves," Tony rolls his eyes, clearly unhappy with Jane, and Bruce, and everyone in the room probably, " _Team Science_?"

###

Team Science Plus Cap, Tony eventually decides, because apparently Steve isn't qualified enough to be an actual part of Team Science (which Steve finds unnecessary and mean but lets it go since it's Tony after all).

Dull is the only word he can think of to describe the day, as he willed himself through hours and hours of obscure theories first from Bruce, then from Tony. By the end, Steve feels as if his head is about to explode even though he is nowhere near the level of comprehension as the others. He thinks of Loki a lot when he manages to lose focus, remembering how he had said they would talk more today, and how Loki had agreed with the portrait of that woman still on his lap. It's late by the time Tony finishes explaining the details of his device, and Steve decides to pay Loki at least a short visit after dinner, to keep his word.

"Steve, wait!" Jane catches up to the soldier just as he steps onto the street.

"Is something the matter?" Steve turns to the petit woman in mild surprised.

"Agent Coulson told me you have some questions for me."

"I do?"

"About Thor?" Jane looks at him searchingly. "And his brother, Loki? Now would be a good time for me, but if you're busy…"

"No, no," Steve says hastily, suddenly remembering how he had mentioned this to Bruce once before Jane and Selvig had even arrived. Though, he wonders how Phil would have known. "Maybe we can talk over dinner? It's on me."

"Oh, I don't know," Jane appears hesitant.

"No, please," Steve reassures her, "Consider this an apology, on behalf of the Avengers, for Tony."

"Well, if you put it that way," the scientist laughs, "Sure. Where to?"

They eventually settle for a small diner on the corner by 6th Ave where the tables are in stalls to allow them some privacy. They begin talking before the food even arrives.

"We met Thor in New Mexico," Jane says, "The Bifrost leaves behind these wormhole like traces, and my research is based on that, trying to figure out what they mean. I guess finding Thor is the biggest breakthrough I've ever had."

She allows herself a small smile, and Steve returns her one, encouraging her to continue.

"Thor was banished to Earth as punishment for damaging relations with another race, the Frost Giants. He cannot wield his hammer until he has proven himself worthy. But when he sacrificed himself in order to protect us and his friends, all of his power and strength returned."

"Why did he need to sacrifice himself?" The soldier asks.

"Thor told me his brother had been…confused," Jane reluctantly says, "Loki had sent a machine after him, to prevent him from returning to Asgard, to kill him probably. But Thor asked for forgiveness instead."

"Forgiveness for what?"

"I don't know. Anything he could have done to wrong his brother, or something like that." Jane brushes a lock of hair behind her ears, worry etched in the wrinkle between her brows.

"Do you know?" Steve asks tentatively, "That Loki is actually…"

"Adopted, yes. And a Frost Giant, but Thor did not care."

"What did Thor say about Loki?" Steve sees Jane shift uneasily and is quick to amend himself, "Please, don't feel obliged to say anything you're uncomfortable with. Whatever you're willing to share is already great help."

Jane laughs soundlessly, but appears less tense at least. "He's never explicitly told me to keep this a secret, but I trust you to not—I don't know—abuse this information."

"I won't." Steve promises, although he doesn't quiet know what that means.

"After his fall," Jane begins again, voice barely a whisper, and Steve has to lean closer to hear. "Loki was branded a usurper and a traitor, and Thor could not even mourn properly with his family, so he came to me often."

"But the Bifrost—" Steve interjects, and Jane is quick to answer his doubts.

"Was still in repair, but travel was possible, although less reliable. Thor was willing to risk the danger because he could not bear to stay in Asgard at times."

Steve wonders what Asgard must have been like to drive _Thor_ into seeking a mode of escape, but Jane does not give him much time to gather his thoughts before she is speaking again, voice listless and sad.

"Loki had always sought approval from their father, but he never realized how much Thor loves him. Thor swore to me that he didn't know his brother was suffering, that he felt unloved or neglected. And their poor mother who thought she had lost her youngest son, she was the most inconsolable of all."

"Their mother," Steve says, remembering the drawing of that woman—ageless and beautiful—although too young to look like Loki's mother, but what does he know. "She and Loki were close then?"

"I would think so," Jane responds with a small smile, "From what Thor had said. Mothers always spoil their youngest boys."

Steve laughs, could hardly imagine Loki young and coddled by his mother—whoever she may be—but then he feels guilty because maybe this shouldn't be so hard to imagine. "Has Thor mentioned anything to you since the Chitauri attack?"

Jane shakes her head. "He only came to me once to say that he'll be busy now that his brother is captured, and he won't be visiting as often. But I didn't think it would be anything this— _awful_. Agent Coulson told me Asgard might be at war."

"That's what Loki has us believing." Steve says, wishing he could reassure the scientist in some way, "We won't know for sure until we get a hold of Thor. And besides," Steve grins, "They're _Asgardians_. If we can hold our own against the Chitauri, I'm sure they can too."

That earns him a smile, as Jane's features seem to soften with relief. "You're right. It's stupid to worry now. We have work to do."

Steve pays for dinner and hails for a cab because it had starting to rain. They return to the tower and bid each other goodbye, and Steve doesn't remember his word to visit Loki until he steps out of his shower later that night. The clock on his wall reads 10:45, and he decides that the god probably wouldn't appreciate a visit at such an unconventional hour. He reads a little Hemingway before falling asleep, all the while believing that Loki wouldn't mind if he is a day late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just a tip, Loki do mind ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please drop a comment. Until next time!


	8. Something Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, hopefully future chapters would be easier to write. Maybe a little warning for Fury being a doucebag, but he's a doucebag with a cause.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy~

Steve considers himself a creature of habit. He wakes up every morning at 7am sharp, before going on his morning run. He takes exactly ten minutes in the shower, two minutes brushing his teeth, and is in the kitchen for breakfast by 8:30. He likes his eggs sunny-side up and his coffee black, and he spends half an hour reading the news before figuring out his tasks for the day.

He catches a glimpse of Pepper—the only other person awake in the tower—just as he steps out. The four scientists had opted to labor into the small hours of the night, and Steve doubts any of them will emerge from their beds before noon. Hopefully, this means that Tony is finally tolerable enough to work with, although the faint yelling and crashing of things the soldier had heard before falling asleep last night suggested otherwise.

Steve arrives at the base at 9:30 and descends the stairs to Loki's cell within the next five minutes. By now, Loki has already eaten and showered and is (if Steve is lucky) well rested and content enough to speak with him. While Steve knows better than to expect smiles or pleasantries, he could hardly have anticipated the look of utter contempt on the god's face—an expression the soldier has never been unfortunate enough to experience personally.

"Is this all some kind of ruse to you?"

"What?" Steve manages.

"Pathetic lot," the god all but spits, lips pressed in a depreciating sneer, "Even I had expected better of you, to at least realize when presented with nothing short of a gift. If Thanos does not destroy your pitiful race by the end, I swear I will make it my personal mission to scorch your cities to the ground."

"Hold on, I doubt you're in any position to threaten us—" Steve begins but soon realizes that it was probably the wrong thing to say, because Loki rises from his cot and is approaching the soldier, slowly and menacingly. Steve reminds himself that there is a glass wall between them, but it hardly soothes his racing heart.

"By the end of three weeks, Thanos will send his army," Loki's voice echoes in a dangerous tenor, dark shadows defining his already sharp features, "The Chitauri tear through the portal to your world, and you will not have the energy from the Tesseract to close it this time. Thanos will come for me, but he will not kill me. He might even rid me of this minor inconvenience—" The god wrings the chains around his wrists for emphasis "—Unlike you and your wretched, worthless planet, to Thanos, I am not expendable."

"What are you getting at?" Steve wavers, unsure of how to react to the god's sudden outburst. While the threats to Earth are worrying enough, something about Loki seems off, as if he sounds too punishing to be sincere.

"Do not think," the god snarls, features twisting, "that bargaining is even an option, that handing me over in a box with ribbons will spare you any consequences. I will have you know that Thanos—"

"Wait, what?" Steve gestures for the god to slow down so he can wrap his mind around the information properly, "Why would you think that?"

" _Because_ ," Loki grits his teeth, exhaling deeply as if Steve's ignorance is wasting away at his last modicum of patience, "Thanos can crush your pathetic excuse of a—"

"No, I meant, what makes you think we'd hand you over to Thanos?"

Loki blinks. "Because you are pathetically outmatched, and you fear for the safety of your world."

"That may be true," Steve says calmly, "But we'd already talked about this. We're doing everything we can to return you to Asgard as soon as possible."

Loki stares back at him indignantly, mouth slightly agape with lingering skepticism on his tongue, so Steve speaks again before the god could retort.

"We have a deal, remember?" He tries to sound reassuring. "The only person we'd hand you over to is Thor. We're going to get you home."

"Asgard is _not_ my home," the god mutters begrudgingly, and the soldier is quick to make amends.

"I know. I'm sorry. And Thor is not your brother. But he's the only one who can take you from here. We won't allow it any other way."

Loki doesn't respond, looks pensively to Steve instead. "Where were you yesterday?" he finally says just as Steve was beginning to feel self-conscious.

"We had a little team building event, so I couldn't come." The soldier then wonders whether an apology would sound too ridiculous. Would Loki even care that Steve skips out on a day of _interrogation_ , of all things? It's not like their daily get-togethers are something either of them to looks forward to, is it?

"Has a new team been assembled then, if a team building event was needed?" Loki raises an elegant eyebrow—less angry, and more intrigued—which should make Steve feel less twitchy if it weren't for the fact that Loki is still a dangerous villain who can read him like a book.

"Yes, with what we're dealing with now, a different team is needed."

"And I'm assuming you only recruit the best."

"You can say that."

Loki's lips curve into a wry smile. "Some of Thor's friends then."

Steve doesn't say anything, but his silence appears to only confirm Loki's deductions.

"Just curious." The god waves a flippant hand, perhaps sensing the soldier's apprehension. "I bear no grudges, although I only speak for myself. Inform me if I could be of any assistance."

They talk more, about Thanos and the army, but Steve still feels as if something is off. Loki is being more cautious with his responses, speaking less and thinking more, and assesses Steve constantly with those dark, heavy blue-green eyes. It makes Steve feel all the more uncomfortable, and he has no idea why. He thought they had reached a point where they could converse—maybe not amicably—but at least securely and professionally. He wants to ask Loki if something was the matter, but the more he thinks about it, the less of an argument he can come up with. Eventually, he decides to put the conversation on hold. It's a quarter to noon, and they've been talking for nearly two hours.

"Will you be back tomorrow?" Loki asks suddenly, which takes the soldier off guard.

"Yeah, I will," Steve says, "I'll inform you next time if something else comes up," he decides to add in response to a nagging guilt.

"That is not necessary," the god dismisses him, blank-faced and nonchalant, "Have a good day, Captain."

###

Steve eats lunch at a café by himself, all the while thinking about Loki. He still has no clue to what could have triggered that strange outburst, because the last time they spoke, they were certainly on the same wavelength. So why would the god suddenly accuse Steve of betraying him? Is this what happens when you leave Loki alone for a day, that he just assumes the worst of everyone when he is given too much time to think? Still, that doesn't explain the god's reserved demeanor afterwards, how his anger had dissipated but not his skepticism. Something must have happened yesterday in Steve's absence, and with that thought, the soldier rushes out of the café without even waiting for his change.

"How long will it take you to infiltrate one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security cameras?" Steve asks as enters the lab, just as Tony completes a circuit loop, leading to some spectacular sparks and smoke.

"Well, that was worth a shot," The inventor sighs as the machine before him sizzles in defeat. "A security cameras you say? 20 minutes give or take. Why?"

"I need yesterday's footage from Loki's cell."

"Afraid he's two-timing you or something?" Tony cackles at his own joke, and Steve honestly does not have time for this.

"Just do this for me, _please_? It's important for my assignment."

"Must be if _you're_ breaking rules," Tony rolls his eyes as he wipes his hands clean of machine oil, "Fine, since you're asking so nicely."

The scientist extracts the video in no time at all and hands the file to Steve in a flash drive. "I trust you know how to watch this on a computer. Jarvis can help you if you run into trouble."

"Right, thanks," the soldier is already sprinting pass the automatic doors, "I owe you one!"

Steve plays the video on the laptop he almost never uses. He watches Loki through his morning routine—waking up, eating, being taken to the showers and then returned—until the god is seated on his cot, looking somewhat expectant for Steve to descend down the stairs. An hour passes by, and Loki is still waiting, taking furtive glances in the general direction of the doors. And it makes Steve feel unbelievably guilty, as if he had stood Loki up, which is absurd because it wasn't like they were meeting on their own accordance. Loki is a prisoner, and Steve is assigned to him. Whether the soldier shows up or not to an interrogation, Loki would be sitting in that cell regardless.

By noon, Loki must have given up and made himself more comfortable, long legs sprawled out on the cot as he leans against a few pillows. Steve feels a twinge of sympathy as he watches the god count the minutes away with nothing to do to pass his time. Eventually, the god slides a hand under his pillow to retrieve a neatly folded piece of paper—the portrait of that woman Steve had given him two days ago. Loki smooths out the drawing with delicate fingers, his expression softening as a few strands of dark wavy hair falls to his face.

Before Steve can even properly define is own reaction to what he'd just seen, the moment is abruptly ruined as heavy footsteps echo from the stairs. Loki jolts and quickly shoves the paper under his pillow before he is greeted by his unexpected visitors.

Fury enters the cell with six armed guards, and Steve immediately feels scandalized because the director had thoroughly reprimanded him for doing the same two days ago.

"Captain Rogers sends his regards." Fury says ominously as he and his guards crowed around their prisoner.

Loki stands, holding himself tall and imperious. "I do not wish to speak with you."

"Would you prefer Captain Rogers?" Fury drawls, and Steve hates— _hates_ the way the director is saying his name, taunting.

"Yes."

"He's busy until tomorrow."

"Then I will speak with him tomorrow."

Steve watches horrified as Fury leads the interrogation. He threatens Loki, accuses him of lying, accuses him of using Steve, which the soldier finds appalling and counter-intuitive because wasn't it the director's idea for Steve to gain Loki's trust in the first place? So that _maybe_ the god will take advantage of him and reveal something he's not supposed to? Of course, that notion had long escaped Steve until now. After listening to the god for the past couple of days, Steve honestly believes that Loki is _not_ secretly plotting their demise. But presently, Fury appears to be destroying all that the soldier had managed to build.

"I have already told you everything." Loki scowls, features twisting in insult and exasperation.

"Everything?" Fury raises his brows, unconvinced.

"Everything you have asked for."

"And how much of it is the truth?"

"Whether you believe me or not is out of my hands and my concern." Loki's voice is icy and venomous, and Steve wishes he could stop the video and purge this confrontation from ever happening.

"I can make it your concern." Fury grins "If what you're saying is true, and you're the only one Thanos is after, what's stopping us from simply handing you over?"

Loki laughs in disbelief, and its an eerie sound, bitter and grating. "You are a fool to think that Thanos would consider such wretched species to be on bargaining terms."

"We defeated the Chitauri once," the director says easily, "And the last time I checked, where _you_ end up is none of our concern."

"Oh, I can make it your concern." The god threatens, and Steve can hardly resist the urge to throw the laptop against the wall. This is like watching a train-wreck in slow motion.

It goes on for at least another hour—fruitless, meaningless threats being thrown back and forth—and Steve swears to himself that he's never leaving Loki alone again, no matter how obstinate Tony gets with the other scientists. He's positive Bruce could handle them on his own.

"Oh, what do we have here?" The odd inflection in Fury's tone catches the soldier's attention.

The director reaches for a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the pillows. Loki closes his hand around Fury's wrist in an iron grasp, and six guns are promptly pointed at the god's head. Loki and Fury stare each other down in a silent stalemate before the prisoner finally withdraws.

"Who is she?" Fury says as he unfolds the paper. He must've known that Steve had given the portrait to Loki. The director had reviewed all of his interrogations up to date.

"Does not matter," Loki says firmly, body tense like bow strings.

"Then, neither of us would be needing it." Fury crushes the paper in his hands, and Loki doesn't even flinch. The director and his guards leave the cell without saying another word.

Steve stops the video, doesn't know where to even begin to process how angry, and frustrated, and _guilty_ he feels. This would explain everything—why Loki had been positively livid earlier today, why he had accused Steve of betraying him, why he had been reserved and wary even after Steve ensured him otherwise. At least the god never fully directed his anger towards Steve, which hopefully means there is still something left to salvage.

Steve thinks of the way Loki had willed himself throughout the whole ordeal—barely flinching or raising his voice—as if he's used to others treating him this way, used to everything being taken away from him.

Steve doesn't return to base to confront for Fury. He searches his desk for some blank paper instead, and tries to recreate the portrait of that woman. He sets his pencil down and tries to ignore how much his hands are shaking.

###

He visits Loki again in the afternoon, and the god straightens himself on his cot immediately, mildly surprised at the unexpected visit. The soldier types in the passcode and enters the cell without saying a word, until he is standing before the seated god, who is doing very little to hide his bewilderment.

"I saw what happened yesterday with Director Fury," Steve exhales through his nose, "Through the surveillance."

"You did." Loki returns to his usual mask.

Steve swallows, feeling his mouth going dry. Maybe he should have planned this out better before approaching the god. "I want to apologize—"

"For what?" Loki interjects, voice light and flippant. "I am a prisoner here, and yesterday was merely…standard procedure."

"No, it's not." _Although it probably is_ , Steve thinks as he mulls over his words, "That was rude and unnecessary—and he shouldn't have done that no matter what the circumstances—" He winces at how inept and inarticulate he must sound, and decides it's probably more advantageous to get to the point. "Just— _here_ —" He takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket.

"What is the meaning of this?" Loki furrows his brows, making no gesture of acceptance.

"I tried," Steve says, unfolding the new portrait, "I don't remember what she looks like exactly, but we can fix it now, if you want."

A pregnant pause falls between them, thick and awkward, before the god finally responds.

"Does this humor you?" Loki frowns in cool, controlled indignation. "I do not need any of these trivial things. The least, your _pity_." The last word comes out bitter and biting, and Steve thinks there must be a story behind it, somewhere.

"No, this isn't pity," Steve amends, lips moving faster than his brain can process, "I'm just shocked—and angry—because it was not okay for him to do that—you're mine—mine—"

"I'm yours?" The god grins in faint amusement, and Steve feels every ounce of his blood rushing to his face and neck.

"Mine to deal with," he corrects himself, "My _assignment_. And I gave this to you, and the Director, he had no right to take it away."

Loki furrows his brows, and Steve wonders what the god must be thinking. He seems like the kind to think way too much, always assessing, always careful—and Steve desperately wants some sort of reassurance that he's on the right track at least.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki finally says, open and searching, and guarded and vulnerable all at the same time.

"Because I don't want you to think that we're all like this. Most of us—most of the time—are decent people," Steve sighs, suddenly feeling exhausted, "I know you don't expect much of us, but this is something important. To me at least."

Loki's expression is dubious, and Steve doesn't exactly know how to interpret it. He probably already sounds like a bumbling idiot, so what else does he have to lose.

"She's obviously important to you," Steve adds to his on growing list of sentiment, "And we can fix it. You don't have to tell me who she is."

Loki lifts a hand to stop him from talking, and the soldier abides. The god shifts to the end of the cot to make space for the soldier to sit, and Steve accepts the invitation with little hesitation.

"Is my opinion of your race that important?" Loki asks as Steve settles next to him, pencil and sketchbook in hand.

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He shrugs, thinking that Loki must believe him. The soldier is incapable of lying, and surely, the God of Mischief and Lies would be well aware of that. They sit together in silence, and Steve waits patiently until Loki is ready. The god appears to be deep in thought, and Steve feels that interrupting him now would be one of the few mistakes he can still readily make.

"She's my mother." Loki finally says, and Steve nods. They don't mention it again for the rest of the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you have enjoyed a long-ish, fluffy-ish chapter.
> 
> Please drop a comment, and until next time!


	9. Heroes and Villains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had 17-18 chapters planned for the fic, so I guess this would mark the half-way point.
> 
> Hooray! Celebration! Enjoy!

"Dr. Foster, how am I supposed to eat when your papers are scattered everywhere?" Tony irritably taps his barefoot against the wooden floor, clad in only a a t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Please don't make me move now, Tony. I'm so close to figuring this out." Jane looks as if she hasn't slept for days, her hair a disheveled mess below her Culver University hoodie. She had decided to bring her work to the common area during the night, and by now, her charts and diagrams are practically engulfing her whole. The billionaire, however, shows little sympathy to his fellow scientist.

"Let Jane be and eat breakfast with the rest of us, Tony." Pepper does the necessary peacemaking as she settles herself beside Steve and Dr. Selvig at the kitchen island. "I'll make coffee the way you like it."

"No," Tony snaps, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. "A man should be able to eat wherever he wants, especially in _his_ tower."

Jane makes a high-pitched sound of pained frustration. " _Really_? Is eating at this table _that_ important to you?"

"You're breaking my morning routine."

"You're not awake early enough to have morning routines." Bruce walks through the automatic doors, yawning and scratching at his stubble. "Most of the times, at least."

"Surprised to see you up too." Tony spins around on his heels to face the doctor. "Heard you guys had a little science party without me."

"You mean last night when we stayed up past two detecting gamma fluctuations from the portal?" Bruce deadpans. "Yeah, one hell of a party."

"We _did_ asked you if you were interested," Jane says, running a hand through her knotted hair, "But you said, quote unquote, 'I refuse to waste time on something a first-year lab intern can do.'"

"Exactly!" Tony points an accusing finger at both of them, "Does it really take two—let alone _three_ —people to stare at a beeping monitor? You guys just wanted to get together and say bad things about me behind my back."

Bruce closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before turning to the female scientist. "Did you stay up all night, Jane?"

"I wasn't planning on it, but then, this idea hit me." Jane shuffles though a stack of papers. "It's not exactly the same, but the radiation signature would suggest—"

" _Hello_?" Tony throws his hands up, clearly insulted. "Don't pretend I don't exist when you're living in _my_ tower, eating _my_ food."

"That's kind of adorable, in a way." Pepper—meanwhile at the island—smiles into her mug, her voice low enough for only Steve and Selvig to hear. "Tony, he's like a little kindergartner sometimes."

Steve couldn't help but smile at that, because during this brief moment, Pepper looked absolutely smitten, even though Tony was being nothing short of obnoxious and awful. It must be nice to be so much in love, Steve muses, to love someone wholly and unconditionally, and to have the feelings returned.

Dr. Selvig beside him shakes his head. "You are a strange woman, Ms. Potts."

###

"Is this something I should simply anticipate from now on?" Loki greets the soldier, a hint of a smirk on his lips, "People just barging in."

"The walls are transparent." Steve says as he steps through the automatic doors. "It's not like I'm invading your privacy by not knocking."

Eight days have passed since Loki crashed back to Earth, and if the god's estimations were correct, thirteen days, counting today, still remain until a visit from the Chitauri. Steve is starting to feel restless, being able to contribute so little compared to the rest of the team, at least until—God forbid—the army actually comes. But the soldier knows better than to rush the scientists, who are dealing with theories and technologies way above his level of comprehension. So Steve thinks it's best to channels all of his excess energy to the mysteries within his grasp—although not necessarily less convoluted than astrophysics. One would be the God of Mischief inside the glass prison, watching him expectedly. And, two would be the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, whom Steve can't seem to find no matter how many people he asks. He decides that the latter should take priority, since he and Fury share—at least supposedly—the same purpose. And this is a matter of trust. How is Steve supposed to follow orders when they barely make any sense to him?

"What do you have there?" Loki tilts his head, eyeing the bulky duffle bag by Steve's side.

"Something you might appreciate." The soldier unzips the bag and empties the contents to a vacant spot on the cot.

"Books?"

"In case you get bored."

Steve had managed to salvage a few books before his apartment was entirely quarantined by S.H.I.E.L.D. His shelves consisted of mostly old novels from his time, writers after the Great War—the "Lost Generation," as they were later called. But there are also some published during the 70 years he had spent in the ice, and others written thousands of years before, philosophy and myths. He decided to cast the net wide so that Loki can decide for himself which eras he prefer, if he prefers any.

"Fiction, mostly outdated." Steve explains, as he picks up _The Sun Also Rises_. Mortals, with their transient lives and evolving ideologies, must appear ceaselessly dynamic to gods, so Steve wouldn't want Loki to believe everything he reads. "These are old books. We've changed since every one of them, in a lot of ways probably."

"Oh?" Loki runs an elegant finger along the binding of _Tender Is the Night_. "How so?"

"I'm probably not the best person to ask," Steve shrugs, "Still seeing for myself."

Loki picks up a book—a collection of Shakespeare's plays—and opens to the first page. "Midgardian literature," he says simply, "Is this one of your ploys, Captain, to elevate my opinion of your lot?"

"No," Steve can honestly say, "These novels, they almost never show our finest moments, but they are what they are."

"Then, why are you showing me these?" Loki sounds unamused and slightly impatient, and the soldier is quick to elaborate.

"I like them, at least," he says, feeling less confident about his decision, "You don't have to read them if you don't like them."

Loki watches Steve pensively before pressing his lips together in a thin smile. "I assume you will be busy today."

"What?"

"Which is why you have brought something for me to entertain myself with." There is no real venom in his voice, but Steve can sense a flicker of irritation because this gesture can still be interpreted as an act of pity—which Steve swears it isn't—although, common decency to the soldier might very be the same as pity to the god.

"Do you mind?" Steve eventually says.

"Not at all." Loki flips through a few pages, paying no heed. "Why should I?"

Neither of them speak for ten lengthy seconds, so the soldier adds, feeling pressured. "I need to speak with the Director today."

"You do?" The god hums noncommittally.

"I have questions for him. He's been doing things that don't make any sense—to me at least—and I need to know why."

"Do you honestly not know?" Lok's eyes darts to his, contemplative and judging, and the soldier feels a whole rush of unexplained trepidations—guilt, paranoia, doubt—suddenly at once.

"No? Why would I?" He swallows, wondering if the god is being accusing, or maybe simply more insightful than he is. "Do _you_?"

Loki watches him for a moment, head tilted and brows pinched in that sad, musing way he always does when he thinks. "No," he says finally, "Thank you for the books, Captain."

Even if Loki were lying, Steve can't tell.

###

In the end, Fury approaches Steve, more so voluntarily than the soldier actually managing to find him. They go to a small conference room in one of the more obscure wings of the base, probably to accommodate for the inevitable shouting. The Director appears composed and ready as they walk down the corridor and into the room, and Steve realizes that his grievances must already be well anticipated.

"You purposely sent me away that day, didn't you?" The soldier says calmly, trying to maintain a civil atmosphere for at least the beginning of their conversation. "So you could lead the interrogation. Why?"

"I just wanted to remind Loki of his alternatives," Fury responds simply, arms behind his back as if this meeting were casual. "How fortunate he is to have you instead."

"That was unnecessary."

"Was it?"

"You wanted me to gain his trust, to have him talking." Steve feels his anger rising. "And we were doing fine. He was telling us everything—"

"Everything?" The director challenges, and Steve quickly amends, trying all the while to stay focused on his necessary rage.

"Enough. He was telling us _enough_."

Fury looks at him unimpressed.

"Loki warned us of an incoming attack," Steve continues, "He has been cooperative. He wants to return to Asgard, which is something we would've set out to do regardless of what he said. And he hasn't shown any signs of being a threat or tried to escape. So _why_ did you feel the need to intervene with _my_ assignment? If you wanted me to do something differently, we could've talked it over and—"

"What exactly is Loki?" The director suddenly says, his words well-measured and practiced. "The God of Mischief? Silver-tongue? Prince of Asgard?"

"Yes?" Steve furrows his brows, failing to see the point of the apparent tangent.

"A prince." Fury repeats, tone clipped. "A spoiled prince who probably has never been rightfully punished for any of his crimes. Just like Thor."

This catches Steve off guard. He opens his mouth to respond, but his words are quickly lost to the confusing turns of this conversation. The director continues before the soldier has a chance to collect his thoughts.

"As you may or may not be aware of, Thor had previously damaged Asgardian relations with Jötunheim in his wayward attempt to murder the Frost Giant king."

"I—Okay, sure." Steve knew about Thor's banishment as a result of his reckless arrogance, but he had no idea that it had been an assassination attempt. These details were always glazed over during briefings, and even Jane—whether she knew or not—never explicitly explained what Thor had done that was so terrible. The soldier wonders whether he should have thought of these questions earlier.

"And what had been his punishment?" The director continues. "A few days on Earth without his powers?"

"Thor redeemed himself by protecting his friends." Steve recalls Jane's accounts in that diner two days ago, of Thors sacrifice in her point of view. "He stood up for them and died for them. He earned his right to return."

"He also destroyed a small town in New Mexico in the process." Fury says flatly, "He was never punished for that."

Steve unwillingly falls silent, remembering Loki's role in that incident, which doesn't help his argument at all, or his overactive conscience.

"They are careless people," the Director continues, "They drag innocent lives into their fights, and they will never learn."

"But you don't have a problem with Thor." The soldier states, reminding himself that this is about Loki and not his golden brother. "At least, not anymore."

"Thor's part of us now," Fury grins, as if to show that everything is obvious and easy, and Steve is the only one not understanding."He swore to protect the Earth and fight alongside our heroes. And he's simple enough for me to take his word."

"So you want to _recruit_ Loki?" Steve casts his doubts, and the Director has the audacity to laugh.

"Of course not. Loki's too smart—too dangerous to be trusted. At least as an enemy, we'd know what to expect."

"Then what do you want from him?" The soldier exhales a stuttering breath, growing increasingly more irritated with the director's failure to get to the point. "We're not here to discuss Thor or the _appropriateness_ of the Asgardian justice system." Because god knows what a can of worms that can turn out to be. "Answer my questions before I honestly start to assume the worst."

Fury looks at the soldier gravely, as if he has been biting the bullet until now. "We need someone who can get through to Loki," he eventually says, "Now, and in the future, if needed."

"So when you told me to gain his trust," Steve shakes his head in disbelief, "What you really wanted was for this—whatever it is between him and me—to be a permanent, ongoing—"

"Loki will be back someday," Fury says frankly, "And it might be best for us—for the safety of millions of innocent people—that he has at least one fond memory of Earth."

"So you tricked me into making friends with him?"

"Do you mind?"

"Of course, I mind!" Steve slams his hand against the table, the loud crack resonating in the otherwise silent room. The Director, however, doesn't even blink.

"Why?" Fury extends his arms plainly to gesture he meant no harm. "I'm playing the villain here, and you're still the hero. And that is what Loki will remember you as."

"You honestly think that this is going to work? With _Loki_?" Steve says darkly, feeling himself slipping into the rage and the sheer nonsense of it all. "He probably sees right through you. What the hell are you even thinking?"

"Maybe, he won't be fooled by me," the Director all but shrugs, "But at the very least, he believes you. Your earnest apologies, that heartfelt speech about how he's _your_ assignment, and that drawing—of his mother, was it? There's no need to worry, Captain. Nothing appears more truthful than the truth itself."

Steve swallows the urge to laugh at the absolute irony of it all. He has been fooled, manipulated, _used_ by an agency that's supposed to be the preservers of peace and the enforcers of justice. They were supposed to be the good in the world, and Steve wonders whether he should've expected better.

"You could've just asked." The soldier finally says, feeling as though the ground has been pulled from underneath him. "You didn't have to keep me in the dark too."

"It wouldn't have been as convincing. What's genius about this is that you're probably the last person Loki would expect to pull a stunt like this, let alone a successful one."

"So why are you even telling me now?" Steve steadies his breath, cool rage in his veins numbing and crushing at the same time. "Wouldn't it have worked better if I kept on believing that he's some poor, unfortunate thing terrorized by the big-bad military espionage organization?"

"Except that he's not," Fury explains a little too calmly, "Loki is still a power-hungry, psychopathic killer. Only he's supposed to fall for it in the end, not you. We still need you, Captain, to fight for what is right."

Steve doesn't respond, doesn't yell or laugh or throw a chair out the window (as much as he is tempted). He feels the Director's eyes boring into him as he leaves, and he makes sure that the door slams behind him once he steps out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading until now. Please drop a comment if you liked it or have suggestions and what not. Until next time!


	10. Science in Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: my science-speak
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy :)

Steve takes his bike for a ride along the Hudson. It's a quarter past seven, and the rush hour traffic has long dissipated since. The night is clear and brisk—the sun just touching the jagged edges of the skyline, painting the heavens above and the waters below in brilliant bands of pink and orange. Steve doesn't think about S.H.I.E.L.D, doesn't think about Loki, or the war threatening to break out whether Earth is involved or not. He keeps his mind blank, takes in the sunset hues against the buildings and trees, and feels the late-spring breeze like delicate fingers through his hair.

###

He returns to the tower by nine and finds the place quiet and still. He wonders whether the scientists had all gone to sleep, their late night exertions in the lab finally catching up to them. Or perhaps they simply managed to murder themselves—considering Tony, being _Tony_ , can serves as reasonable impetus to do so—and Steve hopes it's not the latter. He eventually finds Jane hunched beneath a pile of papers the breakfast table, exactly where she had been when he had left the tower in the morning. The soldier laughs slightly out of disbelief.

"Have you been here all day?"

The astrophysicist jolts. She must have dozed off, and Steve immediately whispers a quick apology for startling her.

"I— _Wow_ ," Jane looks more astonished than he is, shaking her head and running a hand through her unruly hair, "I guess I have. I don't know _how_ I managed to do this all the time in college."

"Come on," the soldier walks over to the fortress of data and lose papers and takes the scientist by her arm, "You can't go on like this. You're going to bed."

"Steve, wait," Jane wriggles free his grasp, pushing her work aside.

"It's fine. Just leave it. I'll make sure Tony won't mess it up."

"No, that's not it," she says hastily, eyes wide and unblinking, "I figured it out."

"What?" Steve furrows his brows just as the scientist smiles, open and brilliant.

"The portal. We can close it as early as a week, if my calculations are correct."

"Oh." The soldier gapes wordlessly at her. "Oh, wow. That's great! That's fantastic!"

"Isn't it?" Jane starts to laugh, and Steve laughs too, and they stay like that for a long time, just smiling and laughing out of pure relief. Jane looks as if she wants to hug him, but is shying away because, they've only known each other for a couple of days after all. Steve doesn't mind, though, realizing that this is incredible news and is worthy of celebration, so he extends his arms, and Jane practically bounces into him.

"So how did you do it?" Steve says as they part, and the astrophysicist—in her excitement—promptly begins to talk a mile a minute, using words Steve didn't even know existed. The soldier winces as he puts up a hand. "A version I can understand, if you don't mind."

Jane excuses herself and laughs, before sitting down and gesturing for Steve to follow.

"From the gamma signature, actually," she explains, "Bruce thought there was something weird about the fluctuating levels, and he was right. These fluxes show the same topographical properties as the ones we detected a year ago, when Thor returned to Earth while the Bifrost was still in repair. The fluctuations we're getting now are much more unstable, though."

"But you can still close it right?" Steve asks, still not fully grasping everything, but as long as Jane knows what to do, and what she needs from the rest of the team, then they're all going to be fine.

"With the correct calculations and the proper energy source, we can do it, but you see, Steve," Jane takes a deep breath, fingers tapping against her lower lip as if she's nervous, "The gamma fluctuations from the portal are the same—or at least _very_ similar to the Bifrost traces."

"That's because Loki fell through the abyss left by the Bifrost, right?"

"Not exactly." Jane winces, "He told you that Thanos created a portal _out_ of the abyss—which wasn't very reliable—and that's how he ended up here on Earth, am I correct?"

"Yes." Steve says slowly, realizing that he probably won't like where this conversation is headed.

"Even if Thanos used the abyss as one end of the doorway," Jane looks at him with searching eyes, voice delicate and careful, "The portal he created should still have it's own energy signature. I think our portal was left by the Bifrost. A _very_ damaged Bifrost."

Steve closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, all the while ignoring the feeling of his stomach plummeting to the ground. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"It might not have been an accident after all." Jane bites the corner of her lip. "Loki could've been sent here deliberately, _with_ the Bifrost."

Steve sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, feeling woefully naïve. "He lied, then."

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but—"

"That's what your data suggests."

Jane looks at him sympathetically. "I could be wrong."

"No." Steve shakes his head. "Don't doubt yourself."

"If you can talk to Loki, and get him to admit to that, then I'll have no doubts."

Steve appreciates the astrophysicist for being _sensitive_ , at least—maybe because she wasn't in New York at the time during the Chitauri attack, or that Loki is Thor's younger brother, and the thunder god still seems absurdly hopeful for his sibling's turnabout. At least, Jane doesn't throw Loki under the bus right away, or reprimand Steve for believing the god so easily, to what minimal degree it might've been. His and Loki's conversations had been strictly professional, but that doesn't mean Steve feels any less betrayed.

"If I'm being perfectly honest," Steve says finally, "I'm a little afraid to—If he actually _did_ lie about this, how can we believe any of the things he had said—Thanos, the war—We're back to square one, pretty much."

"I don't know about that." Jane folds and unfolds the corner of a piece of paper, obviously a nervous tick. "I've never seen the gamma fluctuations this bad, and the portal is so high up above ground—he must have plummeted fifty, sixty feet before crashing through your skylight. He might not even have made it, for all we know. The last time Thor visited, the Bifrost was near repair. Something, or someone, must have broken it again."

"You think it was the Chitauri?" Steve asks, perhaps a little too hopefully, "And not—well—Loki and Thor, _again_."

"Maybe, I don't know," Jane says, not really meeting his eyes, "But regardless of _how_ Loki got here, he was injured, and chained—He hasn't tried to escape, and he _wants_ to return to Asgard. That should mean at least…something?"

Steve nods and leans back into his chair, trying to take this all in, trying to be rational. "Damn, he's just so _fucking_ hard to—" he mutters under his breath before realizing what he had just said. "God, I'm sorry. Please excuse my language—"

"No, it's fine. I've heard much worse," Jane makes a face, vaguely amused, "Almost anywhere else, actually."

"I just—I really believed he was honest with me." Steve laughs a little, depreciatingly.

"So did I." Jane says, and that was _not_ the response the soldier had anticipated.

"What?"

"I've seen the surveillance footages." Jane blushes, looking away as she smooths her hair, as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud. "We all have, actually. I'm sorry."

"No, no." Steve grimaces, putting up a hand, "That's what they're there for. For everyone to see." He sighs, opting to adopt a glass-half-full kind of attitude. At any rate, he can ask for a second opinion, despite feeling terribly deprived of his privacy. "You think he was just—I don't know—putting on a show?"

"I'm no expert on— _trickery_ —" Jane offers, "But he seems to trust you."

"Doesn't mean he'd tell me the truth."

"He'd trust you with the truth—or at least, trust that you'd understand—out of anyone."

"How many of those surveillance footages have you seen?" Steve couldn't resist asking.

"I saw the ones where you drew pictures for him." She smiles, and Steve feels a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Of his mother."

"Did you see when the Director lead the interrogation?"

"No, but I could imagine." She looks at him sadly. "I saw the aftermath when you returned. It must've been terrible."

"Yeah, it was." Steve agrees but decides against elaborating further, too tired to relive the details. As much as Steve disapproves of the Director's approach, he nonetheless accepts that the team doesn't need any more distractions right now. They need to work together, hope for the best, anticipate for the worst, and above all else, trust each other, as difficult as it may be. Steve will just have to make do with what he has, even if neither Fury nor Loki appears to be perfectly honest with him.

"Have you told the others yet?" He eventually says, and Jane shakes her head.

"No, I wanted to talk to you about this first."

"You should tell them first thing in the morning." Steve smiles and tries elevare the mood, because Jane's findings are still a fantastic breakthrough, regardless of what complications they may have revealed. "I think right about now, we could all use a bit of good news."

Jane buries her face in her hands and makes a frustrated sound. "I'm going to need Tony's help on this one, though. The equipment from my lab won't do."

"He'll be happy to help." Steve reassures her, somewhat amused at her uncharacteristically childish behavior.

"Will he?" The scientist raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"He'll help."

Jane gets up to make tea, but Steve offers to do it instead. He fills the kettle with water and sets the stove on high, rummaging through the tea cabinet and picking up one of the flowery, fruity ones Pepper is always recommending. Decaf, he reads, which is good. Jane deserves a good night's rest.

"How does Chamomile Mango sound to you?" Steve winces, feeling emasculated from just reading the names. "Or French Vervain."

Jane doesn't laugh at him though, because during this briefest of moments, she had fallen soundly asleep on top of her work. The soldier shakes his head before turning the stove off.

"What's going on?" The astrophysicist slurs as Steve gently pulls her up by the arm, positions her so that most of her weight is against him as he leads her towards the elevators.

"You're going to bed," he says as her head falls on his shoulder, "And you're sleeping in tomorrow. I'll let Jarvis know."

###

"I figured it out." Tony is sitting at the kitchen island by the time Steve returns, elbows against the counter with his hands intertwined centimeters before his lips, his expression thoughtful, but pained. The soldier had forgotten his jacket by the breakfast table after assisting Jane to her room, and had returned to retrieve it. He did not expect to find Tony here, _brooding_ again, as it seems.

"What?" Steve stares blankly at the inventor.

"I figured out what was interfering with my signals." Tony flattens a hand against the counter surface, pushing himself up. "I know why I couldn't get through to Asgard before."

Steve blinks at him for a brief moment before breaking into a tired smile once again. "Tony, that's great. Congrats! Have you told the others yet?"

The scientist shakes his head. He doesn't appear to be nearly as pleased though, frowning as he pinches his brows together. "It was so simple. I can't believe it took me this long."

"As long as you got it in the end, right?" Steve shrugs, walking to the other side of the counter where he had previously been preparing tea.

"The Doppler Effect." Tony states, and as per usual, Steve has no idea what he's talking about.

"The what?"

"The Doppler Effect," the scientist continues, frowning deeper and eyeing Steve critically, "The shift in observed frequency of waves, which results from the source moving with respect to the observer. You know that physics phenomenon you learned in high school?"

"That was 70 years ago, Tony." Steve sighs as he turns the stove back on.

"I thought of it before," Tony begins to prattle with his usual animated haughtiness, "But it's hard, you know, figuring out the relative velocity between two galaxies. We're actually moving closer to Asgard—contrary to popular belief—so maybe in 10 million years, we'd be next-door neighbors, assuming that the galactic collision _doesn't_ pulverize us into space dust—"

"Tony, you're ranting. What's the matter?"

"Five months." The scientist strikes the counter surface with the flat of his hand, just to demonstrate how upset he is. "It took me _five_ months of delicate calculations to account for The Doppler Effect, so the signals from the transmitter I gave to Thor can properly be detected on our end. At first I thought I forgot a minus sign somewhere because of all this noise, but I finally figured it out."

"What is it?" Steve asks, and Tony actually huffs, like a stubborn child.

"The portal. That _fucking_ portal isn't _just_ spewing out gamma radiation. It's distorting the entire spatial dimensions for wave travel!"

"And that's bad." Steve says vaguely, just to push the conversation along without revealing too much of his cluelessness.

"That's the noise!" The scientist cries out. "Somehow, that portal is picking up _my_ waves and sending them right back. And those waves aren't subjected to the same frequency shifts because—God knows how physics even applies when a fucking wormhole is sitting there in downtown Manhattan. Doppler is probably rolling in his grave right now."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Steve offers a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as Tony sinks back into his seat.

"Right now, I have no idea what I'm picking up." Tony rubs at his forehead exhaustedly, "It'll take months sort that out, and we don't have months. We need to close the portal first before we can reach Asgard."

"And you're going to need Jane's help." Steve deduces and wills himself to hide his amusement.

" _No_ ," Tony drawls derisively, "I'm going to have to solve her problems first before I can solve mine."

Steve rolls his eyes. "This isn't a _race_. These problems, they're all of ours."

"But not all of us have the ability to do anything about it." The scientist snaps—obviously aimed at Steve—to which the soldier returns a cool look of disapproval.

"I didn't mean it like that." Tony grimaces and puts up a hand in apology. "Fuck, I just don't want deal with Banner's shit-eating grin."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad, as long as you ask nicely." Steve assures him, although trying hard not to give away that Jane is pretty much in the same boat. It's not his news to tell after all, and he'd rather have the scientists work this out among themselves.

A brief moment of silence passes. "Why does Bruce like her more than me?" Tony eventually says and immediately blanches at how ridiculous it sounded. "No, don't answer that."

"You need sleep." Steve helpfully concludes, to which the scientist waves a dismissive hand.

"Can't. Too wired up from my coffee."

"I was going to make tea. Do you want some?" Steve turns the stove off just as the kettle was beginning to whistle.

Tony scrunches his nose and makes a face. "Pepper can't even make me drink that crap, and you think you can?"

"It could help you sleep better." Steve shrugs.

"No" Tony says derisively, before picking up a box that Steve had previously left on the counter. " _French Vervain_? What the hell's wrong with you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's got a lot to deal with next chap. Stay tuned :)


	11. A Formidable Effort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Inaccurate Norse mythology
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy the Stoki bonding :)

"I have finished them all." Loki announces before Steve even dismounts the stairs properly, to which the soldier returns his customary look of confusion.

"What?"

"The books you gave me. I have completed them." The god says almost proudly, as if Steve a day ago had presented him with a challenge.

"But, I gave you like ten books."

Loki tilts his chin to look at his visitor through hooded eyes, appearing quite pleased. "Another area Midgardians are simply lacking in, I'm afraid. You may quiz me if you'd like."

"No, it's fine, I believe you." Steve puts up a hand and wills himself to stay focused. He had wanted to come prepared, tried to conjure up possible situations and appropriate responses for each, but eventually realized the uselessness and absurdity of it all. He can never be prepared when it comes to Loki, who is inherently problematic and unpredictable—a perpetual mystery that no one has ever come close to solving. And Steve, by contrast, is plainly himself, and all he has to give is his honest, diehard effort.

"What is the matter, Captain?" The god eyes Steve curiously, his voice oddly gentle, "Was your talk with the Director not to your liking?"'

And that's the other thing nagging at his conscience. This pseudo-friendship—if Steve can call it any form of a friendship at all—is still just a part of some larger ploy—a long-term pretense—with lives, and worlds, and _feelings_ at stake. And Steve is again muddled with what it is that he should do, which part of this is his responsibility, and which is honesty, sincerity, and truth?

"It's something else, actually." He sighs, deciding that there's no point for mincing words at this stage. "We made some progress yesterday—a lot of progress actually—with regards to the portal."

"That is excellent news, is it not?" Loki says coolly, already anticipating the bad news to follow, and Steve takes a deep breath through his nose.

"Dr. Foster, you know _Dr. Foster_ —"Steve says cautiously, and Loki rolls his eyes and waves a flippant hand as if to say get on with it. "—Her data suggest that the portal you fell through came from the Bifrost."

The god visibly stiffens, expression flickering with—at least what Steve assumes to be—genuine surprise, doubt, and maybe even a smidgen of indignity. "That is impossible."

"The— _energy signature_?" Steve winces as he tries to recall Jane's lengthy, albeit simplified explanation, "Of the portal matches to the Bifrost's—or at least when it was still in prepare."

"How would she know that?" Loki looks at him skeptically, almost _angrily_ , and Steve wonders if this is normal. Did he actually catch Loki in his lie or is this…something else?

"Thor came to Earth a couple of times while it was still in repair, and our scientists detected these—traces, I guess."

"A couple?" Loki presses his lips to a frown, brows furrowed in thought. "As impotent as he is with words, surely negotiations would not warrant _a couple_ of visits. What was his purpose here?"

 _Because he was mourning for you_ , Steve thinks, _because he wanted to see Jane_. But he doubts that Loki would have accepted either.

"More importantly, how did he even manage to—" Loki is speaking swiftly, quietly, more to himself that to Steve. "Did Heimdall _allow_ it?"

"Who?" Steve asks, and Loki's jaws click shut. A brief silence passes, during which Loki continues to stare intensely at nothing in particular.

"Never mind, that does not matter," the god eventually concludes, "I highly doubt that the portal is left by the Bifrost, but if the best minds _Midgard_ has to offer would think so, then perhaps I will humor myself with this idea."

Steve stares at the god blankly, feeling lost. "You said the portal was because of Thanos."

"I still believe that."

"How sure are you?"

"Bring me your scientists, and we will settle it. Who is in charge? Stark?"

"Did you _honestly_ —" Steve grimaces, wondering if an elegant way of expressing this allegation even exists, but Loki is looking at him so expectantly that he feels pressured to spit everything out as it is, which in retrospect, was probably not the best idea. "Did you not consider this possibility? _At all_?"

Loki watches him steadily, eyes sharp and features impassive. "You think I lied."

Steve has no response.

"And everything I have ever revealed to you is now under scrutiny." The god plainly states, and the soldier feels something tugging at him painfully— _guilt_? It's always guilt.

"Have you lied to me?" He says as Loki's eyes flicker of something dangerous.

"No."

"If you did—if you tell me right now—I can, we can still work something out."

"I did not lie to you, soldier." The god snarls, teeth gritting and feral.

Steve feels his breath catching in his throat, remembering the many facets of Loki he had been allowed to see during these past few days, and wonders if he will ever see them again.

"I want to believe you." He takes a few hesitant steps closer to the cell. "But I need you to tell me more. Especially, after this. _Please_." It's not really Loki's fault if he honestly didn't know, but Fury would definitely need more convincing, and Steve can't deny that he could use some too. He wonders whether he should have entertained this possibility before confronting the god, but Loki is the _God of Lies_ —what was Steve supposed to expect?

"You hardly deserve it, but I do not have a choice, do I?" the god relaxes, although his shields are once again lifted, mask impenetrable. "What do you wish to know?"

"What happened that day when Thanos attacked Asgard," Steve carefully says, "Tell me exactly, as much as you remember—and not just what you think is important."

Loki frowns, obviously displeased with the request, but eventually abides with only a moment's hesitation. "Thanos had chosen a formidable time to launch his attack. A day of feast for the anniversary of Queen Frigga."

"Your mother?"

"Thor's mother." Loki adds somewhat needlessly, "And yes, mine too."

"What happened?

"It was close to dusk when Thanos approached me. He freed me from my cell after murdering my guards and crushed the many layers of both magic and physical precautions that stood between us. He destroyed them all, except for these chains that seal my power. Odin's magic."

"Is that when he—" Steve gestures vaguely to his side, where those stiches had long healed.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?" This conversation is like pulling teeth, awkward and unwilling, and Steve doubts it gets any better.

"He took me by my neck," Loki says stony faced, "He held me against a wall and ran a dagger down my side. I assume he stopped after I lost consciousness."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He taunted me for attempting to escape his punishment."

Steve swallows audibly, feeling uncomfortable and invasive, and the way Loki is staring at him with a mixture of indignity and contempt isn't making his job any easier. Odin's punishment or Thanos' revenge—these are Loki's choices right now, and Steve has to remind himself that the god deserves it—Asgardian justice at least—because he has taken the lives of the innocent and waged needless war. These are the lawful consequences to his misbehavior, but somehow, this notion isn't as comforting as it once used to be.

"Okay, then what?"

"I saw smoke in the direction of Odin's vault when he brought me outside," Loki continues, "It had been a decoy, and Odin must have realized too. We were soon confronted by guards, with increasing frequency as we made our way to the outskirts, although Thanos easily struck them down. Eventually, we reached the Bifrost where his portal sits. It was small, enough for maybe two or three to cross at a time, nothing compared to the portal forged by the Tesseract. The rest of his army waited on the other side, but Thanos had halted them from crossing. He then held me over the abyss before letting me fall."

"So you didn't see Odin? Or Thor?"

"No," Loki's voice is hard but his eyes are sad, and Steve feels an undeniable twinge of sympathy and gives his best effort to hide. "They were protecting the vault, most likely."

"But you ended up here though."

"Yes."

"Because of the Bifrost."

"I do not know," Loki draws his brows together, "If the portal on Midgard is indeed a byproduct of the Bifrost, then someone must have activated it before I had fallen to the Chitauri."

"Does this mean someone _saved_ you?" The soldier gapes, eyes widening in revelation.

"Yes, I share the same doubts as you, that someone would do that for me." The god says dryly, and Steve feels abashed, wishing he had phrased himself better. "Heimdall is all-sensing and all-knowing." The god continues. "Legends claim that he is capable of detecting the fluttering of a butterfly's wings a thousand worlds away. He is the overseer of the Bifrost, and only he could have opened it. Although—" Loki's voice softens a little. "—I know not why he would. We are enemies."

"Why's that?"

Loki looks knowingly at Steve, a grin tugging at his lips that is both self-righteous and depreciating at the same time, "Because I have deceived his all seeing eyes—multiple times—which he hardly appreciates. And he is one of Odin's foolish servants, while I refuse to be. I had assumed he was slain by Thanos. He was on the ground of his observatory when we arrived, in a pool of his own blood, missing an arm and a leg. If he were alive—or _sentient_ —he would be the first to know I am here, and Asgard would have come for me by now. I have done nothing to conceal my presence."

"If he's not there to operate the Bifrost, can it still be used?"

"There is very few qualified to do so." Loki waves a dismissive hand. "But Odin has his ways, I am sure, so fear not. Once he is informed that I am here, he will send someone to retrieve me."

"How does the Bifrost work, anyway?" Steve asks more out of curiosity than anything, "Is it like the train? Do people buy tickets and get on?"

And Loki actually laughs—brisk and sharp (probably at the idiocy of the question)—and Steve is strangely mesmerized because he's never seen Loki laugh before, and it's a peculiar sight and sound. "I do not know what a 'train' is, but no, you do not pay to use the Bifrost. It is almost exclusively limited to the royal family, and by that I mean Odin."

"But you've used it. And Thor."

"It had been highly frowned upon, and each time ended in some sort of punishment."

"Where have you gone, besides Earth."

"I'm sure you've heard of the incident at Jötunheim." Loki says without any real emotion. "Another notable place would be Alfheim, the land of the light elves."

Loki grins, in a small, subtle kind of way, as if reliving a memory that had not been _particularly_ awful. It is something Steve easily could have missed if he had blinked at an inopportune time, but since he didn't and has managed to catch that brief glimpse, there's nothing else he wants to do more than to desperately cling to it.

"Did you like— _Alfheim_?"

"It is a pleasant enough place," Loki says carefully, as if tasting the words to a story he hadn't considered in a long time. "Nearly perpetually spring, and we—Thor and I—had gone there often as young boys. The light elves were a peaceful race, so our visits were _almost_ consented by Odin?"

"So what happened?" Steve asks, strangely captivated by the way Loki's features seem to soften, making him centuries younger.

"We had been picking flowers for mother's anniversary," the god continues, "and Thor stumbled upon a woman bathing in the river. The Goddess Idunn, niece to the elf king Frey."

"Oh."

"Although, one might wonder why the _king's_ niece would be bathing in a river." Loki arches a brow and smiles—almost _suggestively_ —and Steve ducks his head in embarrassment.

" _Oh_."

"This clandestine rendezvous with the general's son had been highly frowned upon, considering Idunn was to marry the Asgardian warrior Bragi." Loki says musingly, "Bragi refused to wed her—or at least postponed the wedding for another century—before his sentiment and libido got the better of him. Idunn bears a grudge against us till this day, dubbing us as meddling, perverted princes who spy on women while they bathe. Although, I must admit, even Thor had been too young at the time to properly admire her form. Needless to say, after that fateful day, we were never to return to Alfheim again."

Steve stares at Loki, just sort of gaping and unsure of what to do with his face. He wants to laugh at the outrageousness of the story, but can't wrap his mind around the idea of Loki making him laugh, especially when the god isn't even trying to be funny, probably.

"Of course, as we grew older, Thor would visit Midgard with his friends to scare mortals and make his name known, while I focused on taming my magic." Loki pauses briefly, frowning a little as if realizing that he had shared more than he is comfortable with. "And until Jötunheim, this was the extent of our use of the Bifrost."

"I— _Wow._ " was all Steve manages in the end.

"I apologize if the latter half of our conversation has been irrelevant." The god says somewhat stiffly, embarrassed almost.

"Oh no," Steve quickly assures, without thinking, "It's fine—it's more than fine—if you want to talk about stuff like this more often—"

Loki, of course misunderstanding him, scowls rather indignantly. "My life is my concern, and none of yours. I am not here to amuse you."

Steve puts a hand up in apology, accepting the reprimand even though it is ill deserved. "What I meant to say was. It was nice—to just talk."

Loki scans him with critical eyes, before stating plainly. "This is not camaraderie." And it strikes Steve a little more tenderly than it should.

"No, it's not," he sullenly agrees, "But if you weren't so—I don't know—mysterious, you'll have a easier time convincing people to believe you."

Loki visibly stiffens, and Steve almost feels bad for redirecting the conversation back to the present, back to Thanos, the war, and Loki's helplessness here. "You would have accused me of such regardless," he says, smiling grimly, and Steve finds it unnerving how sure he seems.

"How about this," the soldier says, hoping to reach some sort of neutral ground, "From now on, you make an effort to tell us the whole truth—details included no matter how insignificant you think they are—and I— _we_ —will make an effort to believe you, regardless of—what might come up."

Loki arches an eyebrow, almost amused at the proposition. "An formidable effort on both our parts, then."

"I mean it."

"And I doubt you not."

"Okay," Steve shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, before on an impulse, walks to the scan by the cell and presses the code to enter. Loki watches him warily as he approaches, standing up to meet the soldier eye to eye.

"Shake on it." Steve extends his hand, and wills himself to maintain his confidence when nothing happens on the god's part for a long excruciating moment.

The god eventually takes his hand, lips curving on one end, as if humoring himself with such strange foreign customs. His grip is firm, but skin surprisingly smooth and cold. Steve decides three shakes are enough before letting go.

He stands there for another awkward moment, trying to think of something else to say. "So did you like my books?" He eventually decides, and Loki seems to accept the digression, returning to a rather flippant air.

"I suppose they can serve as an adequate past time when one is in prison."

"Do you want more?"

"I demand more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Please let me know if you'd enjoyed it!


	12. Mischief and Science

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update due to popular demand :)
> 
> Although the next might come with a little more time in between. I have one of those future-determining exams coming up soon, so I will be studying my brains out!
> 
> Again, thank you for reading up until now. You guys have been supportive and wonderful!

"Heard you're looking for books." Pepper drops an impressive stack of paperback novels on the breakfast table, just as Steve swallows a mouthful of eggs.

"Thanks, Pepper." He returns a lop-sided grin and sets his fork down, shuffling curiously through the pile. "Loki likes _Midgardian_ literature, imagine that— _Pride and Prejudice. The Secret Garden. Peter Pan_?" He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow, to which Pepper smiles kindly and knowingly.

"I love Fitzgerald and Hemingway as much as the next person, but maybe you should give Loki something happier to read too."

"Yeah." Steve laughs slightly as he turns over the worn pages of _Rebecca_. "Maybe."

"Steve, can you give him this too?" Dr. Selvig drops another book on top of the stack, and Steve cranes his neck to read the title on the binding.

"Darwin's _On The Origin of Species_?"

The professor shrugs. "Kind of curious to know what he think of it."

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" The soldier says noncommittally as he packs the books into his duffle bag. "Probably takes him five seconds to read a book, anyway."

"No, Tony, no!" Jane's scandalized shouting elevates in decibels, signifying her approach.

Selvig sucks in a breath before taking a sip of his coffee. "So it begins."

Tony walks into the kitchen nonchalantly with Jane following in suite, looking positively miffed. "Just because I need your help doesn't mean you can waltz in here and take over."

"Well, how else am I supposed to help?" Tony self-righteously inquiries, and Jane huffs in indignation.

"Oh, I don't know. Be a sensible, _normal_ human being? This is still my project."

"Which I'm taking over."

" _No_ , you're not. As brilliant as you are, Tony—"

"Why, thank you."

"—I have devoted my whole life to this research. I'm still more qualified than you!"

Bruce walks over with his toast and coffee and sits across the table from Steve, before switching on the news.

"Shouldn't you do something about that?" The solder makes a face, and the doctor shakes his head, eyes never leaving the television screen.

"No, thank you. Don't need the stress."

"Why do you even want to talk to Loki anyway?" Tony crosses his arms, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled like a petulant child.

"If it's about the Bifrost, then it's my field, my business." Jane stands her ground, equaling him in stubbornness.

"He's a mass murderer. He tried to kill you."

"Is that supposed to _scare_ me?"

"You should be scared."

"Well, I'm not." Jane resolutely declares, "Because Steve's going to be there. Right Steve?" She raises her voice at the last two words, as if Steve sitting a few feet away couldn't hear her under normal conditions, and the soldier simply raises a hand in recognition.

"Yeah." _Unfortunately_.

A long pregnant silence ensues before Tony finally remarks into the void. "Fine, we'll just both go."

"Don't you think that's a little unnecessary?" Jane says with an air of condescension, to which the billionaire quickly counters.

"About as unnecessary as you and Bruce, and your late night radiation vigils."

" _Okay_ , that was _not_ unnecessary." Jane vehemently objects, following Tony out of the kitchen and into the hall, her voice reverberating even after the doors have closed behind them. "We gathered important data! _We_ figured this all out!"

Steve sighs as he swings the strap of his bag across his shoulder, mentally preparing himself for the eventful, confrontational day ahead of him.

"You'll get through it, Steve," Selvig pats him on the back encouragingly, "Dr. Banner and I have been dealing with them everyday, and it's not so bad once you get used to it, right Bruce?"

"Yeah." Bruce says after swallowing his last bit of toast, eyes still glued to the morning news, "If you can think of a better threat than unleashing the Hulk, feel free to share."

###

Loki has been anticipating their arrival, standing before the transparent wall of the cell, calm and imperious, as his visitors descend the stairs. Tony and Jane approach the god together in equal fast-paced strides, as if even reaching the cell ahead of the other would warrant a victory in some unspoken competition. Steve follows them in suite, wishing he could warn Loki in some way, of this incoming train-wreck.

"Good morning, Loki," Tony greets coolly, to which the god nods in acknowledgement.

"Mr. Stark."

"Right, and I'm sure you know Dr. Foster," the inventor continues, "Thor's twinkie in the city."

Jane punches Tony on the arm, hard, her knuckles cracking from the impact. The billionaire swallows his protest down to a throaty whimper, which, although subdued, is still fairly pathetic.

"Not the most unified of teams, I see," Loki remarks just as Steve hides his face in his hands.

Steve soon finds the subsequent conversations convoluted and dull, but despite the multitude of scientific jargon and obscure theories, Loki seems to be holding his own in the exchange much better than any of them had anticipated. And he's not even _from_ this planet, Steve thinks sourly, once again casting doubts on his own competency. But then again, Loki comes from an advanced alien race—regardless of the disparities in physics that govern their realms—and he is probably considered more capable than most of his own, so Steve shouldn't feel _too_ bad.

He catches himself spending more time staring at Loki than actually listening to what is being said, which he honestly doesn't find strange until he reminds himself that he should. Loki looks like art—thin, and elegant, and pale like porcelain—and the darkness of his clothing only exaggerates his already defined features; the contrast is stunning. He looks frail, but Steve knows he can kill on whim. He acts subtly, but Steve knows he can be cruel. Loki is Silver-tongue, God of Lies—an enigma, a paradox, a demon in angelic guise, impossible like a ghost.

And Steve realizes he can't go on like this, when Loki catches him staring twice within the span of a minute. And the soldier doesn't even attempt to avert his eyes anymore, to hide the fact.

"I'm going to step out for lunch," he declares, "Anyone want to come?"

The only person who even pays him any attention is Loki, who spares a fleeting glance, but otherwise, the scientific debate continues. Steve emerges from the chamber feeling light-headed and jittery, and he agonizes over lunch by himself.

 _Loki_.

Loki is the enemy—a criminal in several realms, a rightful prisoner in theirs. He has murdered innocent people in cold blood, allied himself with a tyrant bent on taking over Earth, over Asgard, maybe even the universe, who knows. He has shown complete disregard for the welfare of others, declared needless war against people who has never done him any harm, tried to kill his brother multiple times—despite whatever history they may have—even when Thor wants nothing more than to mend their tarnished bond. That has to count for...something?

Loki—Loki's _insane_ , desperate for power, consumed by greed, driven by hate, and vengeance, and little else. He wanted an army to lead and a realm to rule, and was more than ready to obliterate freedom in the process. Since then, maybe he has finally come to his senses.

After all, he's not fighting anymore, obliging enough to return to Asgard and defend his former home against a greater threat. But does this mean he regrets siding with Thanos? Does he regret anything at all, or is simply adopting the necessary roles to ensure his own welfare? The fact that these questions still comes to mind brings harshly to light just how little Steve knows of the god. Even so, is regret even enough?

Loki is probably over a thousand years old, but sometimes, he can appear so profoundly young, hurt, and tired—just another unfortunate creature, mislead and mistreated by fate. He misses his _mother—_ he has to—her portrait still tucked underneath his pillow even though neither he nor Steve mentions of it. How can someone embody the substance of a lost boy and an ancient god all at once, seamlessly?

This is not okay, on so many levels. They're different, in so many ways. What Steve is feeling right now undermines every single one of his principles. If this is some sort of a trick, it's a brilliantly subtle one. Steve doesn't even know at which point he had fallen.

Maybe it's because he's lonely. He hasn't been with anyone for nearly two years, not romantically, and certainly not on a satisfying emotional level. There was Peggy—a kiss, a blooming love, a lifetime ago—and now, as shockingly alarming as the idea might be, _maybe_ Loki. And _damn_ him for being so undeniably gorgeous, enticingly mysterious, tragically taboo—and it doesn't even matter that he's a man, although this confession is a lot easier to admit now than back then. But still, this doesn't mean anything, whatever Loki may be, because Steve doesn't want women, or men. He wanted Peggy, wanted her for so long, misses her more than she'd ever know. And now, maybe, _maybe_ —but it's clearly not enough, both fortunately and regrettably, for Steve to throw everything he believes in away, just on some whim, some desperation, foolishness driven by lonely nights—

Next time, perhaps, when Clint or Tony goes out to a bar, he'll actually take them up on their offer.

But then again, Steve frowns, there is nothing _wrong_ with wanting to live the rest of his life alone, enchanted by his memories of Peggy—the only woman, _person_ —and the pedestal he had placed her upon long since.

###

"Tony, that's enough already!" Steve hears Jane shouting before he even reaches the automatic doors. He sighs as he taps his ID against the sensor.

"Last one, promise," Tony says once Steve descends the stairs. "But I'm making this one count."

"It will not work." Loki sounds woefully unimpressed, to which the inventor scoffs.

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean we won't _learn_ anything. Now, don't move."

Steve hears the explosive whistle of a weapon going off followed by Jane's screaming, and he is sprinting down the stairs without a second thought. By the time he reaches the containment chamber, the entire cell is engulfed in white light. He sees Jane standing a few feet away and immediately runs to her side, but before he can even get a question out, the light vanishes to reveal both Tony and Loki intact, looking quite bewildered.

Tony has a machine attached to his arm, closely resembling a cannon, with smoke emerging from the barrel. Loki is sitting on the cot, his chained wrists extending away from his body, the enchanted metal glowing an eerie blue.

"What do you think you're doing?" Steve is surprised by the odd pitch in his voice, of how panicked and _angry_ he sounds. "Why are you even—Get out of there, Tony!"

"What? Only you can come in here, and we can't?" The inventor makes a mockingly innocent face. "We saw the tapes."

Steve punches in the passcode by the entrance, controlling his rage just enough so he doesn't break the damn thing. He storms into the cell lividly, with every intention of dragging the billionaire out.

"But did you see that, Cap?" Tony has the nerve to appear entertained. "Those chains completely deflected the beam. Kind of like Wonder Woman bracelets."

"Wh—Are you _insane_?" The soldier gapes in sheer disbelief. "You could've—" _Broken the chains_ , he thinks, _freed Loki, killed yourself, killed him_. He falters, unsure of which should take precedence.

"Relax, Captain," Loki waves a dismissive hand, just as the chains return to their usual silver sheen, "This is Odin's curse, powerful magic that can never be broken by such disgraceful, Midgardian toys." He ends the sentence with a sanctimonious sneer, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, honestly, if that actually worked, I would've been disappointed."

And at that very moment, a loud resounding crack spears through the otherwise silent room, causing all three men inside the prison to look upwards. The glass ceiling soon splits into two, the lines and cracks patterning the transparent walls like spider webs, spreading at a remarkable rate until the whole cell crumbles under the disturbance. Steve immediately shields himself as broken glass rain down on him for the second time in a month.

He cautiously opens his eyes to inspect the damage once the chaos and dust have settled. Jane is still standing motionlessly outside, hands over her mouth in silent horror. Loki is brushing glass off of his shoulders and hair, appearing more peevish than hurt. Tony's expression is an odd mixture of amusement and guilt.

"Now that." The billionaire points a finger to the previously encased ceiling. "I'm disappointed in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who will need a new place to stay now? ;)
> 
> Remember to drop a comment! Stay tuned!


	13. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still studying for my future-determining exam but couldn't resist writing, so here's a quick update. Enjoy :)

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Fury's voice is steady, but his opaque eyes glint of danger and icy rage. "You're supposed to be working on the portal."

"Study break," Tony says, blank-faced.

After clearing out of the shambles that was once Loki's cell, they had no choice but to inform Director Fury of the recent misadventure. The team congregated in the conference room of base—Loki, Steve, Jane, and Bruce all seated in a row, in that order, while Tony stood like a spectacle before them, confronting Fury with smugness and dry-humor as his last defense.

"This isn't funny Mr. Stark." A noticeable vein twitched above the Director's brow. "You just threatened the lives of everyone in this base, in this city."

Tony sucks in a breath through his teeth, drumming his fingers against the flat surface of the table, as every and all sorts of excuses flood his mind. "Well, yes, but if you think about it, it's not really _entirely_ my fault."

"It was entirely your idea." Jane says sourly, and Tony whips his head around, eyes narrowed and lips twisting to a frow.

"This is an Avengers meeting. Why is she here?" He shakes an accusing finger—to which Jane snorts—before redirecting his grievances to the Mischief God seated a few feet away. "And what about him? He's still public enemy number one, and we could be sharing confidential stuff."

"Apologies Mr. Stark." Loki tilts his head, eyes half-lidded and lips curved in faint mockery. "But considering someone had damaged my living quarters, I am currently displaced."

"Cheeky." Tony clicks his tongue, and prepares a retort, but the Director disrupts him before he could digress any further.

"Stark." Fury warns, and the inventor sighs in defeat, resuming to defend himself in his usual self-righteous way.

"My point is, why the hell would you lock the most dangerous criminal Earth has ever faced in a flimsy glass box that even _I_ can break without even trying?" Tony is always quick to point fingers, provoking a thunderous frown from the Director.

"Are you insulting the competence of our technology?"

"Somebody has to."

"Our containment chamber was not designed to withstand thirty-two consecutive condensed-energy blasts from the inside."

Tony turns to Jane once more with all his childish woes. "You are such a _tattle-tale_ ," he nearly hisses, and Jane simply gapes at him for a moment, before huffing indignantly from the chocking rudeness of the accusation.

"For Christ's sake, Tony!" Steve has to repress the urge to pull out his own hair. "Leave Jane alone. You _know_ it's all on tape."

"And, Captain." Fury remarks, which immediately prompts regret from the soldier for drawing attention to himself. "I purposely placed you in charge of supervising Loki so that freak mishaps like this doesn't happen."

"I stepped out for an hour at most." Steve half-pleads, "I didn't think Tony would— _blow_ everything up."

"Next time, think it through." The director reprimands with an air of finality, and Steve groans in frustration, burying his face in his hands.

"You know," Tony frowns disapprovingly as he implements himself as the center of attention again, "If that's all it took to wreck the damn thing, Loki could've broken out of here any time he wanted, if he had his powers."

"Can you offer a better alternative, Mr. Stark?" The director arches an unimpressed brow.

"Actually, weren't you working on something like this a few months back?" Bruce joins the conversation for the first time.

" _No_." Tony blinks very slowly, but the doctor remains persistent.

"Yeah, that thing you locked me in," he reminds him unsmilingly, "And then asked ever so kindly for me to 'Hulk out.'"

"No, shut up, Bruce." The billionaire snaps, before whispering not so discreetly. "I don't want him in my tower."

"Actually, I think Dr. Banner has offered a considerable alternative." The director allows himself a grin, and it's Tony's turn to frown in indignation.

" _Really_? You're going to give Loki to us? Do you actually believe that Avengers Tower is more secure than SHIELD?"

"No," the Director half-taunts, amusement in his eyes now that the tables have turned, "Which is why I will be assigning agents to secure the tower. I'm thinking up to a quarter-mile radius."

"Oh, no, no, no!" The billionaire fervently protests, eyes widening in almost-worry. "Now you're just pissing me off. "

"You're the one who broke our containment chamber."

"You don't _honestly_ expect me to believe that SHIELD only has _one_ containment chamber."

"That was our best one."

"This is because I wouldn't show you the blueprints to my new anti-gravity shields, isn't it?" Tony's features twist in shocked outrage, voice rising to an unpromising decibel. "You were looking for a reason to send your drones into my lab, well no _fucking_ way!"

"Your accusations are unfounded and absurd." Fury coolly responds, showing no intent in proving his innocence, which the inventor welcomingly interprets as a haughty confession.

"And you're petty and full of bullshit!" He spits vehemently, body quivering in repressed rage. "I don't want Loki or _you_ in my tower."

"Okay, everyone—just, _stop_." Steve rises to his feet, finally having heard enough. All eyes fall to him, but he doesn't waver or move under the sudden attention, imposing himself with authority instead as he turns first to Tony and then to the Director. "Sir, we consent to transferring Loki to the tower—"

"No, Steve," The inventor snaps with renewed vigor, "This is _not_ your—"

"Let me finish, Tony." Steve says decisively as if speaking to soldiers, and Tony's jaws promptly snap shut. Without further interruptions, he locks eyes with Fury again, speaking with both assertion and respect. "The damage to the containment chamber is completely our doing, and we apologize. Since the tower apparently contains a functional substitute, we agree to secure Loki, and I will make it my personal responsibility to ensure his well behavior—and of those around him—better than I have done presently." Steve begrudgingly adds the last bit, remembering Fury's admonishment towards him earlier. Loki is but a vague form in the corner of his vision, but the soldier can almost feel the pair of assessing eyes bearing down on him. He very carefully does not move.

No one seems to have any objections, so Steve opts to continue. "And in return, sir, we ask you to secure the tower only from the outside. Mr. Stark may have his reservations, but if you want to show the rest of us that your intentions true, and the decision to transfer Loki is purely tactical and without personal motives, you will respect our boundaries."

They stare at each other for a long moment afterwards, the truce hanging heavily in the air between them, before the Director finally speaks, "Very well, Captain, I accept your conditions."

"And Tony?" Steve turns to the inventor, who mumbles a reluctant "whatever," but the gratification of reaching common grounds is short lived.

"What about Dr. Selvig?" Jane tentatively asks, reminding everyone of the professor's apprehension towards Loki, which he had made clear before agreeing to affiliating with SHIELD.

"What about Clint?" Bruce sighs and adds, reminding them of the archer's fervent detestation for the Mischief God, which certainly wouldn't have dwindled since the last time they met.

"Tony and I—" Steve shoots a warning look just as the scientist was about to protest. "We will speak to them."

The meeting is adjourned after they've reached the agreement, and Fury arranges for private transportation to take Loki to the tower. Soon, several armed agents enter the conference room to marshal Loki out, which Steve thought is hardly necessary because—despite being chained and without magic—the god also has no intention of threatening their shaky alliance, at least for the moment. And during the eleven days he had spent evaluating the god, if Steve had learned anything from the toil, it's that Loki can't be forced; whatever he chooses to share is solely based on his own accordance, although, that's not to say he's impervious to reason.

Loki walks a few steps ahead of him down the hall, poised and silent and surrounded by guards, and Steve feels a twinge of guilt that the god had to sit through the whole debacle, while everyone talked about him as if he's not even there. Steve wonders if he should say anything at this point—encouragement, assurance, an apology maybe—but the prospect of forced pleasantries feels equally as unwelcoming as the gaping silence.

###

When Dr. Selvig returns to find Loki in the common area with the rest of the tower's usual inhabitants, his only reaction is a tight-lipped frown—which Steve is thankful for because Tony's exaggerated concerns were grating on his last nerves. _Oh Christ, the old man will have a heart attack. He could die, Cap, and his death's on you. We're going to kill him, and it's all your fault._

Fortunately, that is not case, because, unlike the rest of them, Dr. Selvig is a polite, reasonable adult, although telling Clint would be different story entirely. But to be honest, since the archer is currently deployed in Eastern Europe and probably won't return until Loki is long gone, Steve have been not-so-secretly hoping that the conversation could be spared altogether. In theory, Clint would never need to know.

Once everyone is seated around the breakfast table, Steve explains their situation, and the professor, in turn, is surprisingly open-minded—wary of the god in the room—but composed under the circumstances. The soldier nonetheless assures him in every aspect he could think of, promises that Loki will be contained in the prison Tony had specifically designed, and surveillance by Jarvis at all times. Steve will personally oversee him if he were to leave the cell, and since the tower is big enough, they will never have to be in the same room, or meet eye-to-eye, if it's what the professor prefers.

"That's not necessary, Cap," Selvig says, shaking his head, "Don't need to make any special accommodations for me."

"I—" Steve hesitates briefly, thrown off by the professor's easy compliance. "We just want to make sure that you feel safe in the tower, because your expertise is greatly valued and appreciated, and—"

"I'm fine. It's all fine." The doctor waves a dismissive hand, rising from his seat. He maneuvers his way to where Loki is sitting silently and motionlessly beside Steve. The god looks at him dubiously for a brief moment, before the professor finally speaks with a sigh, not begrudgingly but not thoroughly willing either.

"Past grievances aside, we share a similar goal now. Let's make this association—however brief it may be—a pleasant one."

He extends his hand for Loki to shake, and the god takes it without hesitating for too long, blank-faced but Steve can tell that his eyes are searching.

Another gaping silence ensues, and feeling pressured, Steve clears his throat, awkwardly concluding the evening. "Well, now that everything is settled, I guess we can all now—"

"Wait, Steve," Tony says abruptly and then stands up after a supportive nudge from Pepper. "I want to say something. To Dr. Foster." The rest of the sentence retreated gradually to mumbles, but is still articulate enough to decipher.

"Me?" Jane sits straighter in her chair, looking uncomprehendingly at Tony and then everyone else.

"Following Dr. Selvig's very admirable and moving gesture to—erm—Loki." The billionaire sucks in a breath, seemingly fascinated by the marble swirls of the table. "I would like to propose a truce, in the interest of scientific progress and planetary welfare, Dr. Foster."

The silence that follows is cavernous and engrossing, as all eyes fall to Jane with varying degrees of curiosity and expectancy.

"I—" For a moment, the astrophysicist is simply stunned to silence, but she quicklt composes herself, rising to meet the inventer. "Well, I guess, in the interest of scientific progress and planetary welfare, I accept this truce, Mr. Stark."

Tony extends his hand, which Jane takes, and they shake with grins of amusement tugging at both their lips. Bruce at that instance decides to clap, slowly and tentatively at first, before Pepper bursts into laughter, joining alongside. Soon, the rest of the onlookers are laughing and applauding too, while Tony and Jane humors with feigned bows and modesty.

Steve glances at Loki, who has his brows pinched and lips slightly pursed, as if trying to grasp what had just happened. And at that moment, Steve found the sight so endearing, that he wish he could plant a kiss against that high cheekbone, just to elicit a reaction, although he perishes that thought almost immediately.

The meeting ends soon after, and they all part their ways. Tony and Steve are left to shepherd Loki to his new cell located on the vacant floor right below Tony's lab, which Steve soon realizes, is _literally_ vacant with the exception of the cell.

"This place is kind of creepy." Steve remarks to the cinderblock walls of the windowless, unfurnished room. The bare protruding light bulbs along the ceiling glow a dull yellow, tinting everything to this morbid color. "You sure this is okay?"

"It's fine." Tony says noncommittally as he calibrates the containment chamber, which itself, doesn't look bad at all, occupying a good quarter of the room and dividing the space in contrasting modernity and grotesqueness. The fluorescent lights soon flood beyond the transparent walls, somewhat counteracting the bleakness from where Steve is standing. "The cell works perfectly. I just never had the chance to do anything else with this room."

Loki shifts next to Steve, peering curiously into the glass chamber. It's roughly the same size as the one in SHIELD, but the ceiling is slightly lower. A bed rests in the center, and Steve had requested a table and two chairs, so that his books wouldn't simply be a pile on the floor anymore (and there would also be a place for him to sit if he feels like lingering during one of his visits). But after realizing the eeriness of this place first hand, Steve feels reluctant to leave Loki here alone.

"Can we move the cell somewhere else?" he hopefully proposes, but the inventor shakes his head.

"Can't. It's bolted down. Otherwise, I would've just given it to SHIELD and spared us the trouble." Tony catches the worrying wrinkle between the soldier's brows, and makes a huffing, impatient sound. "What. You're worried that he's not going to like it?"

Steve wants to protest, but soon realizes that he has no grounds to. Loki is a still prisoner here, and _this_ —it's definitely better than a lot of the alternative prisons in the world. He then wonders what prisons on Asgard is like, especially that of a fallen prince.

"It's _fine_." Tony rolls his eyes, "Loki doesn't care if the walls aren't flower patterned, right Loki? Tell Cap, it's fine."

"It's fine, Captain." Loki says absently as he steps inside the open doors without needing any coercion, examining the books and his new furniture.

"If he needs anything, he can tell Jarvis, and Jarvis will tell one of us." Tony closes the doors behind the god and gives the sturdy walls a good pat. "Aright cool, let's go."

Steve still feels oddly unsettled, but Tony tugs him away. "I'll be down tomorrow morning, alright Loki?" He turns to say just as they reach the stairs.

"Good night, Captain." The god responds without turning around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is motivation and love! Thanks for reading! :)


	14. Subtlety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghh, can't stop writing this, which is good for you guys, but bad for me…I really need to be studying for my exam.
> 
> But what's done is done, so enjoy the chapter!

The heavy thudding of boots on bare cement echoes thunderously against the unadorned walls, and the soldier sighs in defeat; subtlety is a lost cause at this point.

"You are early, Captain." Loki greets him from within the cell, resting on the bed with his back inclined against a pile of pillows. One of Steve's books lay open on his lap. It's only 7am, and Steve had half-expected to find the god still asleep, but it appears that Loki had long awoken before his arrival.

"Yeah, well, now that you're at the tower." Steve says, approaching the other, "It saves me a trip downtown."

Loki hums noncommittally, but otherwise paying the soldier little attention. He appears to be nearing the end of the book, so Steve allows him a few seconds to finish, before continuing. "Do you want to—" He winces slightly at the lack of better wording. "—freshen up?"

The task of overseeing Loki throughout the most basic of activities has all fallen silently to Steve. The god's relocation had been rushed and unplanned, and a notable void needs to be filled now that the human resources from SHIELD are no longer available for sustaining the god. And Steve doubts that anyone else woke up this morning wondering who would be making Loki breakfast.

"Ah, yes," the god looks to him with vague amusement, swinging his long legs over to the edge, "Will you be my new caretaker now?"

The soldier shrugs. "Something like that."

Steve ends up taking Loki to his personal floor. When Tony designed the layout of their individual living spaces, he incorporated a guest bedroom for each, with it's own private bathroom just in case any of the Avengers have family or friends staying over. The purpose of this room has long been lost to Steve, but Pepper still insisted on equipping it with all the basic necessities—towels, soap, shampoo, toothbrush—just in case. And Steve decides that letting Loki use this unclaimed, untouched bathroom would be the most suitable and professional option, given the circumstances.

Outside in his own kitchen, Steve hears the shower going off and the unmistakable shuffle of Loki stepping inside. He decides to prepare breakfast at that point, just to keep his mind from lingering on that fact.

After 15 minutes or so, Loki emerges from the bedroom, clothes wet and clinging to every line and curve, while Steve, with great self-restraint, does not stare. He had forgotten that Loki couldn't take those clothes off completely because of the chains, and what a pain that must be.

"Are you cold?" He says, feeling pressured.

"I'm never cold," came the impassive response.

 _Frost giant. Right_ , Steve thinks grimly, before asking a less stupid question. "Do you want an extra towel?"

"That would be useful."

"I think there's one in the closet, if you look."

Loki disappears and emerges again, toweling his hair by the doorframe. Steve can feel the weight of the other's eyes bearing down on him.

"I'm almost done here," the soldier says as he takes out two plates from the cabinet, "Why don't you sit down for now."

Loki abides without any vocal response and takes a seat on the edge of the couch, posture perfect and strung like a wire. Steve wishes he would relax, but knows it's much easier said than done, even if the setting is awfully domestic.

After awhile, Loki grows visibly bored, peering curiously to the picture frames on the coffee table. He tilts his head—his body angling slightly—to get a better view without actually having to disturb anything, and Steve thinks musingly that Loki can be a surprisingly polite houseguest when he wants to be. The god looks at the photos for a long time but doesn't say anything.

They eat mostly in silence, and Steve once again gives his best effort not to stare, as Loki takes infuriatingly small bites at his eggs and toast, licks jelly off his fingertips, and sips coffee with soft presses of those paper thin lips. Steve swallows his own meal with difficulty, wondering if Loki is doing this on purpose—and oh, what a terrifying prospect that would be, because then it would mean Loki _knows_. But much to the soldier's momentary relief, the god seems completely engrossed in his own thoughts, that any reaction he manages to elicit from the other man appears lost entirely. Maybe this is just the way Loki eats, Steve inwardly grimaces, or maybe he's slowly losing his mind.

He wonders what he could've done differently. Fury—despite the pettiness of his actions—did warn him beforehand not to grow attached. Yes, the director had purposely given him this mismatched assignment, and yes, he had tried to exploit the soldier's decency, but for Steve to develop such unintentional, unprofessional, not to mention reckless _feelings_ towards the god—it's probably the last thing Fury would have expected. There's no one to blame but himself, Steve realizes, and there is very little he can do about it at this point. He'll just have to wait it out, focus on the job at hand, and maybe once Loki is safely returned to Asgard, Steve will finally comprehend how incredibly _insane_ this all is, and have a good laugh—or shudder—to himself.

He returns Loki to the cell after breakfast, frowning once again at the uncanny atmosphere of the unfurnished floor that no one else, not even the god, seems to mind. He fumbles with the new security system and manages to get the glass doors to open on his second try.

Loki takes one step inside and lingers, before turning to Steve. "Will you be coming in?"

The sudden inquiry catches Steve off guard, and his expression must have revealed exactly that. Loki tilts his head to the side, a playful glimmer dancing fleetingly in his eyes. "Now that I have not only one chair, but two," he teases, "I can assume that I am allowed visitors."

Steve reddens at that, although he should have anticipated as much. Very little gets by Loki, especially when intentions are so poorly disguised—or in Steve's case, not disguised at all.

"Will you come in?" Loki repeats, the inflection in the end sounding almost— _strangely_ —hopeful.

"Do you want me to—I mean, if it's aright with you?" Steve says politely, although the well-meant courtesy is not as well received as he had expected.

"Why should that matter?" Loki frowns, voice suddenly clipped, and Steve frowns, confused, because he thought they were past this stage, past the god's constant need for self-preservation, to dehumanize—maybe not himself—but the nature of their relationship, at least.

"I'm not here to make enemies," Steve says cautiously.

"Then I suppose you are here for fence-mending." Loki's tone is sardonic, almost snappish. Steve looks at the other with questioning concern, before something finally clicks in his head, his eyes widening involuntarily.

Loki wants him to stay—obviously, he's the one who brought it up—and Steve in his hesitation has upset him. Why? Because Loki doesn't want to overcommit himself, or appear so at least, and the soldier's constant need for clarification is embarrassing him. It's actually really childish now that he's realized it, and Steve makes a mental side note to always appreciate the subtlety when dealing with Loki. Not everything can be clear-cut or spoken, even if every mundane experience, every flicker of emotion is profoundly significant. Loki isn't looking at him anymore, but somewhere in the direction of the lower right corner of the cinderblock room. His brows are pinched, lips flatted in a thin frown, appearing almost as if he wished to take back his words.

Steve decides the best way to salvage the situation is to step inside without another word, and hope that Loki indeed wants company, rather than to kill him in some not-so-subtle way later on. The door closes immediately behind him, and he takes the chair closest to him, before waiting for the god to follow.

Once they're seated face-to-face, Loki asks rather blandly, "What do you wish to talk about today?" as if this was entirely Steve's idea in the first place.

"I don't know." The soldier can honestly say.

"Have I answered all of your questions regarding Thanos? The Chitauri? The Bifrost?"

"I guess." Steve rubs at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Unless there's something you want to tell me."

Loki stares at him with no readable emotion, which the soldier can only interpret as a no. Feeling pressured to change the course of this terribly strained conversation, Steve opts to go with, "So did you finish all the books?"

"Yes, I have." Loki says, more easily.

"Even Darwin?"

"The notion of speciation over time. Yes."

"So what did you think?" Steve asks, remembering Dr. Selvig's earlier curiosity, and Loki arches an elegant brow.

"Would you like me to attest to his theory?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

The god leans backwards into his chair and laughs, sharp and open—the rare kind that reaches his eyes, which Steve can listen to all day even at his own expense, it seems. "Exactly how old do you think I am?"

"Well, how old are you?"

"Roughly a thousand in Midgardian years, so no, Captain, I cannot confirm what common ancestors you share with the rest of Midgard's beasts. I cannot even verify whether your savior actually walked the earth."

"You know about that?" Steve's surprise is perhaps too obvious. He had purposely avoided giving Loki religious texts, or works with strong religious implications, to lessen the likelihood of mass brainwashing. But his precautions must have been in vain; Loki appears well aware of the prominence of faith in their society.

"The most prolific of Midgardian literature. Yes, I have come across your holy book, long ago before our first meeting. So tell me, Captain, do you follow its teachings?"

"Yes." Steve says without hesitation, and the god grins, showing all of his teeth, although without the usual malice.

"How can you believe in only one god, when you've met at least two?"

"You're _a_ god. You're not _God_. There's a difference." Steve tries to think of a better way of explaining this notion, but Loki doesn't seem particularly interested, as if he already knows and is just teasing.

"I rather like the idea of evolution," the god continues, returning to all seriousness, "I found it fitting to Midgard in many ways. Even in your holy book, the portrayal of your God evolves over time. Mortals are an interesting spectacle—a rapid, relentless cycle of birth and death, constantly changing, never the same—while gods, we are trapped in time in comparison."

"Exactly how old are you, in your terms?" Steve asks, purely out of curiosity.

"For a god, I am young."

"Are your life stages the same as ours?"

"Like mortals, we are born, we age, and we die. We do not metamorphose to a butterfly in the middle." Loki's lips curve almost impishly. "But unlike mortals, our timescale rivals that of eternity."

"So on a scale of one to—let's say 80 being eternity—how old are you?"

"On your _Midgardian_ scale—" Loki rolls his eyes, drawling "—I would be around 25."

"Oh, so am I." Steve says with perhaps too much enthusiasm. "25—that is if you take away the 70 years in the ice."

"This means nothing." Loki furrows his brows and frowns, tone insistent as if it's all a completion. "I am still several lifetimes older than you, even considering your years in the ice."

"I know, Loki." Steve couldn't help but smile discreetly at that. A brief lapse of silence follows before he continues, "So you liked Darwin?"

Loki waves a regal hand. "No more than the others."

"Do you have a favorite?"

The god doesn't answer him, and instead, picks up _The Sun Also Rises_ , which sits on top of a neatly stacked pile. "I know this is _your_ favorite. Or at least you enjoy it very much."

"How do you know?"

"The pages are worn."

"I could've gotten a used book."

Loki grins, eyes hard and resolute, as if something menacing was unleashed within him. "Your preferable movement is easily recognized, the generation of writers who emerged from your first great war—warriors whom you presumably admired in your youth. This era is wholly represented by the literature you have given me, compared to the more fleeting glances into the other periods before and after."

"Not all of those books are mine." Steve arches a brow. "Some are Pepper's."

"Only amongst those you had brought the second day." Loki says confidently before searching the soldier for an affirmative reaction. Steve sighs.

"Alright fine, how do you know that?"

"You have a few peculiar reading habits," the god continues, "Most notably the folding of the top corner when marking the page, as opposed to the lower corner preferred by Ms. Potts. And when writing utensils are unavailable, you have the nerve-wracking tendency to use the edge of your fingernail, to indicate at least the first word of a phrase you would like to remember."

Steve ducks his head, embarrassed by the meticulousness of Loki's insight into something he had never even considered himself, but nonetheless, opts to challenge the god further, since Loki appears to enjoy flaunting his knowledge, anyway. "So why this book specifically? Why not Dos Passos or Fitzgerald?"

"The markings are more frequent," the god says, browns drawing slightly, a frown tugging at his lips, "And when you first brought the books to me, you lingered on this one." Loki runs an elegant finger along the binding, his expression more thoughtful than self-satisfied as if he's not completely pleased with his own response.

But Steve, on the other hand, finds his deductions convincing enough. After all, there's only so much you can learn about a man from the physical state of his books, and Loki probably have covered more bases than the soldier could ever hope.

"Alright, you win, it's my favorite," he says, which earns a smile from the god—smug, but genuine nonetheless. "But I know you like it too. You've read it at least twice."

"Care to explain?" The smile falters immediately, which Steve finds almost comical in its blatancy. Of course, Loki would indulge in unraveling others, but when the tables are turned, he'd act as if he's been personally fouled.

"Well, it's one of the books I gave you the first day," Steve continues despite the indignant glare, "Which you claimed to have all finished, but you had it in your hands again this morning, which I can only assume is your second reading. Otherwise…"

He trails off, suppressing the urge to smile at the god's speechlessness for once. At this point, Loki can admit to one of two things, that he liked the book—at least enough to warrant a second reading—or that he lied about finishing them all in the first place. Steve hopes it's the former, but doubts that Loki would confess to either.

"I read it a second time because I failed to understand why you would prefer this to the others," The god says stiffly after a brief moment of consideration. Steve admits he did not expect this alternative.

"I did not find any of these characters particularly appealing," Loki states, "Flawed like all humans are, but also lacking in anything redeeming. Perhaps you are able to relate to them, soldiers who survived the war—wounded, displaced, aimless."

Loki studies him with unrelenting eyes, and Steve isn't sure if his face is betraying him, because he honestly doesn't know how he should react to these sudden accusations.

"But you are not like them," Loki continues, "You do not live in false extravagance or vanity. The war has not stripped away morals."

"Yeah, well—it's not really—" Steve begins, but the god promptly interjects, obviously still unsatisfied with his current lack of understanding.

"Perhaps on a more deep-seated level of self-worth then, like the narrator with his observer mentality—the curse of being able to recognize problems but lacking the ability to solve them, his human desires incompatible with his inhuman limitations, his castration, and his failure to satisfy the woman he loves. This can all—"

"Alright, _stop_ —" Steve, surprisingly for the first time when speaking with Loki, feels his patience winding thin. "—Maybe I just like the way Hemingway writes, ever considered that? Maybe I like reading about Paris, and Spain, and bullfights—and people of that time, after the war—how they lived and dealt with all this uncertainty about the present and the future. This is fiction. It's outdated. And maybe I like it because I just do. It doesn't have to relate to me _personally_ in anyway."

He breathes once he stops, surprised at how strong his reaction had been and wonders if he had spoken too harshly. Loki withdraws, eyes downcast to the book in his hands, which is definitely a change since it's usually Steve who does the tiptoeing when they speak. The resulting silence hangs heavily between then, before the churning guilt in his stomach urges Steve to say something nice in compensation. He opens his mouth, but Loki beats him to it.

"That was rude of me," Loki says quietly, and all thoughts are suddenly vaporized from Steve's head. It isn't quite an apology, but close enough for him.

"I—No, it's fine," the soldier reassures in a haste, "I just—I guess I had my hopes up that you actually _liked_ the book to read it twice, rather than trying to figure out why _I_ liked it—" Steve ducks his head and laughs a little at the ridiculousness, what little displeasure he felt before long dissipated.

"I enjoyed Hemingway's attention to detail." Loki carefully says, although he's fooling no one, not even Steve.

"Well, thanks for trying," Steve sighs, but smiles nonetheless, "Honestly, if you find anything at all that you like—it could be Pepper's, or Darwin, doesn't have to be mine—just tell me, and I'll get you a copy. You know, so you can keep it, and bring it back if you want." There are probably plenty of stuff to read on Asgard, Steve thinks, so who is he kidding. But it's a nice thought at least, that Loki might leave Earth with something other than awful reminders of helplessness and failed conquests—which of course, sounds suspiciously like Fury's intention all along. This grim realization clouds some of Steve's previous wishful thinking.

"Thank you, Captain, but that is unnecessary," Loki says, bringing Steve back to the present. His smile is thin, and his eyes are sad, and Steve suddenly realizes that maybe Loki isn't allowed to have books back in Asgard—which might very well be the least of his worries.

"What's it like over there?" He asks against his better judgment, and Loki's eyes meet his, not one readable emotion in them.

"Are you asking for the details of my punishment?"

"Yeah, I guess." Steve nods, feeling doubtful of his position to make such daring inquiry, but Loki's expression seem to soften, his voice airy and without malice, but not exactly sincere either.

"Nothing too different than my imprisonment here." He waves a dismissive hand. "Glass cages, bland food, and boredom enough to drive me insane—perhaps for the next century—until I have learned my lesson, which of course, might even warrant a longer time."

"Is that all?" Steve says with a touch of skepticism, and Loki's mouth suddenly contorts to a vicious frown, features darkening dangerously, and reminding Steve of how mercurial the god can be—fickle like midsummer storms.

"Where you hoping for my lips to be sewn shut?" Loki practically hisses, "Perhaps for snake venom to drip into my eyes? Maybe my skin and muscle be torn from my bones."

"No!" Steve protests, appalled and horrified that Loki would even suggest it, let alone accuse him of wishing for it. "I was actually worried—" He sighs, hoping his honesty would at least mollify the god. "—it might be that."

"Do I not deserve it?" Loki looks at him defiantly—eyes narrowed and jaws clenched; Steve shakes his head.

"No one deserves it."

"Some deserve far worse."

And the soldier decides that _now_ would be a good opportunity to steer the conversation to less dangerous waters, although he wonders if it could be considered cowardly, turning a blind eye to such unsettling words. But there's a right time and place for everything, and now certainly isn't the right time. Steve will remember this day, keep everything he had learned keenly in his mind, until they reach a point—hopefully soon and before Thor's arrival—where Loki is willing to reveal more.

"Do you really think the food here is that bad?" He asks somewhat stupidly, after failing to think of anything else.

"Dreadful." Loki responds tersely, although accepting the digression.

"What do you like to eat then?"

"Nothing here."

"Well, I'm going to order us Italian." Steve takes out the phone Tony had given him and fumbles with it, before realizing he can simply ask Jarvis and save himself the embarrassment. He knows Loki is being difficult; there's no way he could have tried all the different food Earth has to offer, so they might as well get started on that since lunchtime is drawing near, and the topic of food seems safe enough. "And if you still hate it, then it's your problem, not ours."

"And I suppose you are the embodiment of good Midgardian taste." The god deadpans, and Steve actually laughs at the dryness of the attempted insult.

"Hey, watch it. If you haven't noticed by now, unless you eat with me, you're not eating at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, this chapter is slightly longer than the rest, which is my way of apologizing for how painfully slow updates will be for the next month. But after my exam at the end of July, updates will be very regular again. Thank you all for the support so far!


	15. No Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is back…
> 
> Thank you everyone, for wishing me good luck on my exam! SO glad that they're over with, although I'm not completely out of the waters yet. Apps and returning to work before the semester starts, but I will be updating more regularly (no more month long droughts, at least)
> 
> So a long-ish, Stoki-bonding filled chapter ahead. Thank you so much for being patient with me :)

Scientific progression edges along much more smoothly now that the temporary truce is in state between the geniuses, although that's not to say the tower is void of any yelling, explosions, or non-committal threats. The days stretch and blend together, and Steve feels himself growing more and more impatient. He hasn't felt this useless in a long time, with nothing to occupy his empty hands and overactive mind, while everyone around him seems overwhelmed with purpose. They're the difference makers at this stage, and Steve can only look on from afar, and _wait_ —with Loki, the only other person as idle as him.

He wonders if the god is feeling anxious too, if he's worried for Asgard or the imminent war—his uncertain role in it all. But whatever Loki might be feeling, he schools it well, and Steve is well aware that this isn't something he can simply ask and expect a straight answer. To each his own, he supposes, and tries to find some comfort in the belief that Earth, at least, would not be caught in another war, as long as they do their job properly. The reminder brings him little relief, however.

He rejoins the scientists on the third day since Loki's relocation into the tower, for a videoconference with SHIELD. Today would mark the end of two weeks—the halfway mark until Loki's estimated time of the Chitauri's arrival—and Fury naturally has been voicing his doubts and unrest, despite scientists' assurance that everything will be under control.

"If you can close the portal with the same technology from your Bifrost research, then what's the hold up?" A miniature 3D projection of the Director stands in the center of the large round table, eyeing dourly at the room of assembled scientists and Steve.

"The portal, you see—" Jane rises to speak, "Even if the energy frequencies resemble that of the Bifrost traces, we're still dealing with a tear in space-time—the wave amplitudes are much higher and unstable. And to properly close it, we'll need to expend a great deal of energy in a very short period of time. And Tony's working on a way to harness that power."

Fury's opaque eye falls to the billionaire, who waves a vague gesture of accordance.

"And when will you be ready?"

"Tomorrow," Tony says flippantly, with clear intent on being a nuisance, "Or later today. Anytime really."

"We want to keep the portal open a awhile longer," Jane is quick to elaborate, "We believe contact with Asgard is possible through the portal, and we would like a few more days to further research it's properties."

"I thought Stark was working on contacting Asgard," the Director frowns, "And he needed the portal closed."

"That was before we realized the energy expenditure required for closing it," Bruce joins the conversation, almost in Jane's defense, to which Tony snorts. "The city's power supply is going to take a massive drop. We're talking about blackouts, for at least two weeks."

"Back up supply will go to hospitals and research facilities, of course," Jane says, "But we won't have much left to reach Asgard with. And that's why we want to try a different approach, first.."

"We don't have much time to indulge in new theories, Dr. Foster." The Director's tone is reprimanding. "That gaping hole into God knows where is an imminent threat to the planet, and I want it closed as soon as possible."

"Well, what about Loki," Bruce calmly reasons, "We need to return him as soon as possible too."

"Contacting Asgard through the portal would be much more direct, if we can manage it," Jane says, "We're not indulging. We have good reason to believe this can actually work."

Fury takes a moment to weigh the options, his one good eye shifting to each person in the room. "And what are your thoughts, Dr. Selvig?"

The old professor, who had otherwise been silent, straightens himself in his seat. "I stand by the words of my colleagues. This decision is unanimous."

A brief moment passes, before the Director speaks again, wary albeit surrendering to the scientist's reasoning. "How much longer do you plan on keeping the portal open?"

"Five days," Jane proposes.

"And if you can't reach Asgard in five days?"

"We'll close the portal to lessen the immediate threat of the Chitauri invasion, and work on returning Loki a different way."

"Closing the portal should buy us more time, correct?" Fury looks at Steve, who nods and feels terribly out of place now that all eyes have fallen to him.

"Thanos can only travel through dimensions when there is already a weak point at the other end, or at least, that's what Loki says." He wonders maybe the god should join them in these status reports. After all, they're all working towards a common goal—as transient as it might be—and Loki's expertise would certainly be more reliable than Steve's second hand knowledge and tentative deductions.

"And Loki. Has his recent behavior suggest any ulterior motives?"

"No," Steve says blandly, although he doubts his words have any weight at all, to convince the others of Loki's authenticity. Even Steve still has his distrusts.

"Five days then," Fury says tight-lipped, "I will place my trust in you—the experts—to resolve this issue as neatly as possible. However, if we do end up with another invasion, I want us prepared. I want the Avengers assembled and ready long before the month mark. Barton and Romanoff will return at the end of the week, and until then, I want continuous updates on communications with Asgard. We're all counting on you, team. And Captain, don't let Loki out of your sight."

And with these parting words, the Director adjourns the meeting, his holographic image flickering before fading into nothingness.

###

Overseeing Loki becomes more or less routine for Steve, with surprisingly little adjustments on the soldier's part. Steve lives an orderly life—seldom in breaking his self-imposed routines—and having Loki around only means he'd have company whenever he eats, which is manageable enough. And during these meals, Steve manages to learn quite a few of the god's preference in food—not just in taste, but in handling and appearance as well. Loki hates messy food, believes it's beneath him to eat with his hands, so sandwiches and burgers are almost always frowned upon. He appears indifferent towards Italian, wary towards Mexican, and more tolerant towards Asian cuisines, the variety of spices vaguely characteristic to certain kinds on Asgard. And much to anyone's surprise, Loki likes sweet things, so dessert will always earn the soldier a few bonus points.

It's the morning of the fourth day since the relocation, and the god had just emerged from his shower, waiting patiently for Steve to finish making breakfast. Loki is always polite during this time, never complains about the quality of Steve's cooking, even though the soldier knows it's nothing special. Although, Loki never voices any gratitude either, or offers any help with preparation or cleaning-up, which makes Steve feel almost as if he's catering to the god, which isn't so bad, considering all other possibilities. This is Loki he's dealing with, and the god could make their arrangement much more difficult if he wished. But for now, the mutual tolerance is pleasant enough, and Steve isn't about to challenge his luck.

He sets a plate down for the god, who makes no haste in claiming. He had been studying the photographs again, quickly shifting his eyes away once Steve had approached. Neither of them say anything while they eat, and Steve suspects that it's no longer fleeting curiosity if the god is still peering at those photos by the fourth day.

The soldier sighs as he sets his fork down, reminding himself that trust is a two-way street. And it's something they should be building towards— _trust_ —even if the notion seems impossible (at least to the fullest extent).

"They're my old team—my friends—from during the war," he says, just as Loki's eyes lock with his, not one emotion apparent in them. Steve shifts to the seat beside the god, perhaps closer in proximity than he intended, feeling the other tensing slightly. He takes the frame off the tabletop and holds it at an angle so that the god has a good view.

"That's Dum Dum, all the way to the left. And Colonel Phillips next to him, my former commanding officer." Steve opens up, and continues with the rest of persons present—Gabe, Jim, Jacques, Montgomery. It wasn't a formal photo by any means—taken whimsically for memento's sake—and it tore at Steve's heart to stare into the eyes of those brave young soldiers, bright-eyed and battle ready and utterly clueless to the travesty to come. The photo was taken a few days before their deployment to the Alps, before—"And that's Bucky, next to me, there. He was my best friend, my only friend, for a long time."

Loki had done proper research during his first visit to the planet, was well aware of Bruce's anger, Tony's pride, Clint and Natasha's intimate relationship. And surely, he would have discovered the fate of Bucky Barnes in his investigation of Captain America, the soldier out of time. Although Loki never used Steve's tragedies against him—never had the opportunity, or perhaps the need—but Steve tells himself that it's okay, to talk about this. He's entitled to his vulnerabilities, just like everyone else. And strength isn't about hiding your weaknesses, but recognizing them for what they are, inside and out, so no one can twist your fears into anything more. So Steve lays himself bare like he always have done, fully conscious of the risks but unwilling to settle for anything less than what he had always believed in.

Loki offers neither sympathy nor scorn, and Steve isn't sure what he should have expected, if he should expected anything at all from either of the two extremes.

"And Peggy," he speaks with finality, his thumb inadvertently smoothing over where the beautiful officer stands. "She was—a good friend. They all were."

Loki sits beside him in silence, hands folded and expression unreadable, although Steve can detect a hint of unease because, after all, it's not like Loki _asked_ Steve to share any of this. The silence between them hangs heavily, and Steve grimaces, wondering perhaps the gesture isn't as brilliant as he had thought.

"They were some of the bravest people I know." He returns the frame to the table, before sinking back into his seat. "And waking up after all those years, and realizing that they're gone, that was the hardest part."

"Sometimes, I'd think to myself, if I were given the option to go back to my own time, would I do it?" He continues after receiving nothing from Loki still. "But then I realize how pointless it is to dwell on things I can't hope to change. My team was like my family, and I think about them, and miss them every single day, but it doesn't mean I can overlook the fact that I was given a second chance, that I'm _alive_ when everyone thought I had died. Not many—mortals, at least—get to live as long as I have, and it took me awhile to realize, but I have a purpose here, too. The lives of this time are just as important, and heroes are still needed to protect them, maybe even more so given the circumstances. So maybe it's good—that I'm here."

"How very noble of you, Captain," Loki speaks for the first time, and Steve feels almost surprised, at the reminder that he indeed has an audience. Loki's tone is flat, although the stiffness of certain syllables suggests a hint of insincerity, and Steve wonders whether he had been too self-indulging. Perhaps, he should have spoke of something that the god could more readily contribute to, or find easier to relate to—although losing everything you could possibly hold dear seems more than relatable, in retrospect, than anything. Maybe too relatable.

Steve remembers waking up in the 21st century to the broadcast of a baseball game he had already attended, and learning from Fury that all his friends were gone. For a long time, he wished he were still in the ice, and maybe Loki had thought something similar after his fall. Did he know that he was going to survive?

Steve wants to ask, but no words would come out, although something must have shown on his face, because the god frowns viciously as if reading the soldier's mind, and naturally misinterpreting his intentions.

"I know not what you wish to gain," Loki says tautly, lips twisting, "But this is by no means a bargain. Do not expect disclosure on my part, simply because you felt needlessly compelled to share your secrets."

"They're hardly secrets," Steve defends, feeling slightly betrayed, "You knew already, practically everyone does. Look, I'm not trying to _trick_ you into spilling anything you don't want to—"

"I never asked," came the icy response, and Steve feels something snap inside. It took an effort to remain composed.

"I _know_ you didn't ask," he says through gritted teeth, "But you've been staring at those photos for the past four days, and I just figured that maybe—you wanted to know something about them, about me. And I don't mind telling you because, like I said, they're not secrets. There is nothing to hide or to be ashamed of. I meant everything I said, and it wasn't just to—"

He breaks off with a frustrated groan, before sagging into his seat in defeat. Loki is still looking at him with that air of obstinacy, as if everything Steve is claiming is completely unfounded.

"Maybe I was reading too much into something I—" he says, feeling rightfully foolish, "—Just forget it, alright? Maybe we can—"

"Peggy Carter," Loki speaks suddenly, "She was your betrothed."

Steve halts as if someone had pulled the switch, and for a moment, he simply gapes at the other man. He supposes this is Loki's way of deeming the conversation topic suddenly acceptable, but something is still not quite…right.

"No, not exactly," he manages, and looks at the photos fleetingly, wondering how much the god would know of Peggy, when the nature of their relationship is so difficult even for himself to characterize—brief but profoundly significant, sharing only one kiss.

He returns his attention to Loki just in time to catch a ghost of a smile, and Steve finally realizes the severity of the trap he had constructed for himself. His personal life, and all aspects of it including the rare romantic encounters, are suddenly fair game—that is, if he wants to preserve any of the previous points he had so sanctimoniously declared only minutes before.

"But she was your lover," Loki says wryly, smiling openly now, almost cat-like in playful cruelty. Steve looks at him sternly, almost wanting to caution the god with his choice in words henceforth, since the soldier is still his only ticket to basic necessities, like food. Although he doubts that he would ever starve Loki just for a few scathing taunts.

"No," he frowns, discomfort clearly evident, although Loki makes no suggestion of backing away. "But I could have loved her."

Steve sighs, a corner of his lips lifting to a sideward smile, knowing that he can be nothing but honest. "We were supposed to meet up for a date, although I ended up being 70 years too late. She returned to the UK, got married, had children, grandchildren. She lived a happy life, from what I heard, which is good. She deserved it."

Loki frowns slightly, as if the sadness and sincerity in Steve's response rendered any teasing too inappropriate, even for the god (or at least, Steve hopes). But regardless of his reasons, Loki holds his tongue, and seems willing to drop the subject of Peggy all together. "Who is your betrothed, now?"

"No one," Steve says stiffly, and winces. "Here on Earth, at least, usually you meet someone first, go on dates—the movies, dinner—get to know them first, before you become—well, _engaged_."

"Fine," Loki accepts the clarification, although makes no effort in actually using the word _engaged_ in lieu of _betrothed_ , "Do you have—oh, how would you Midgardians call it—a girlfriend?"

"No."

"And why not?" Loki grins, and Steve wonders if the god actually plans these mind games or just improvises as he goes, because they all seem to fall perfectly into place in the end. Steve wouldn't be surprised at either.

"I just haven't met anyone yet," the soldier mumbles a little, feeling self-conscious and woefully stupid.

"But surely, there are plenty of fair maidens keen on dining with Captain America."

Steve allows himself a smile. Loki is teasing him, although not unkindly, and he decides his lack of romantic interests (and whatever insecurities they might entail) is nothing compared to losing Bucky, Peggy, and the rest of the team—if Loki is planning to use any of this against him later on. Steve has always been cautious with his heart, and it's not a weakness easily exploited, and hopefully, not even for Loki—despite these recent turn of events.

"Well, maybe that's the problem. They'd want to meet Captain America, and without the suit, I'm just Steve Rogers."

"Steve Rogers," Loki repeats almost methodically, and the strangeness of his name on the god's tongue is astounding. Steve inwardly grimaces at the incongruity of his claim, considering he hasn't worn his suit at all since Loki's arrival, and not once had he insisted the god to call him Steve. But in his defense, Loki is a _prisoner_ here (despite the home-made meals, and book discussions, and what-not), and perhaps, the title is warranted. And if Loki had a title that was more colloquial than God of Mischief or Prince of Asgard, then Steve would gladly have refrained from using first names.

"And I'm not sure if I can live up to all their expectations," the soldier continues with a shrug, "I can't be Captain America all the time."

A brief moment passes amidst this strange heart-to-heart, and Loki speaks just as Steve is growing twitchy. "Your self-doubt is unwarranted." The vacancy in his expression and flatness of his voice made it sound more like a reprimand than a reassurance.

And Steve, in turn, is effectively thrown off. "I guess it's because I hadn't always been like this, physically. Before the serum, no one even looked at me twice, let alone expected me to save the world. And having been on both ends of this spectrum, I know how important it is to find someone who likes me—for _me_ —and not just—"

"Your self-pity is also unwarranted." Loki's tone is undoubtedly sardonic this time, and Steve actually laughs. He supposes there really is no point in bemoaning his fate, when he is blessed with the power to make a difference in the world, to be a protector. In fact, he should be infinitely grateful.

"Well, thanks for the pep-talk," Steve says, grinning, although the god hardly seems to share his amusement. Maybe Loki doesn't understand because he was born into privilege, or maybe he understood too well since it had all been torn away. But either way, the god wants to hear none of it, and despite his aloof demeanor, his words can be loosely interpreted as encouraging, which is a consolation on its own. "I—You don't have to say anything if you don't want to—but what about you? Anyone that you might—"

"No," Loki says tersely, in nonchalance, and Steve supposes he should feel lucky that he got a response at all. Asking 'why not' seemed too cruel, because as beautiful as Loki is, would there be anyone in Asgard who could accept a fallen prince, a traitor, a _murderer_. Steve firmly grounds himself with this grim reminder, and tells himself that his pseudo-friendship—or whatever—doesn't make up for anything. Maybe Loki isn't some irredeemable monster, but he is still a condemned man.

He regrets returning question, but what else was he supposed to follow up with. He thinks about dropping the subject altogether, but the timing is too awkward to flow into another line of thought. And he can't always divert their attention to food whenever the issue gets touchy.

Loki must have suspected something of similar sort, and opts to elaborate, more out of obligation than anything. "I am aware of the Midgrdian myths, which claim that I am father to several children, one of them the eight-legged horse Sleipnir, whom I personally birthed."

"Well, yeah." Steve ducks his head and tries not to appear flustered, remembering the time he had discovered these facts with Tony and Clint, inevitably leading to crude jokes and immaturity.

"None of it is true. The beast had been a product of my mind and magic, created as a tribute on the anniversary of the king. The myths passed to Midgard are nothing but fabrications made by a few of Thor's friends, a childish reprisal in our long lasting feud. And of course, Midgardians are known for their gullible acceptance of even the most outrageous tales told of their gods. However, I, of course, retaliated in a much more noble fashion."

Steve frowns, realizing that these rumors are nothing short of pranks made by cruel school children. And to imagine a young Loki _bullied_ —He wonders how old Loki had been at that time. Teens maybe, paralleling Steve's high school years? God, high school was awful.

"What did you do?"

"I cursed them with a spell which removed every strand of hair from their follicles, from head to toe," Loki grins wickedly, "And naturally, Thor was foolish enough to catch himself in the cross-fire, an inadvertent victim in my justified vengeance."

Steve arches his brows at the god, in a mixture of amusement and sheer disbelief. Something about this prank felt impeccably _Loki_ —although harmless and without actual malice, the act comically shocking, and publically humiliating to boot. This seems like the Loki that Steve can grow fond of—no cruelty, just mischief, sharp laughter, and glimmering green eyes. A part of him wants to believe that it's still true, although the rational part of him reprimands for such naïve, useless thinking.

"All the hair, you said?"

"Every single strand. From head, to face, to…other places." The god trails off, reminiscing almost proudly at his handiwork, "As hairless as the day they were born."

"But that wasn't nice. Cursing Thor too."

"The blundering oaf got himself in the way. Stupidity is punishable by death in certain cultures, and he has no one to blame but himself."

"Well, I'm glad it grew back," Steve laughs, "He wouldn't seem like much of a Thunder god, otherwise."

"Permanent results would have profited a much more severe punishment, on my part." Loki calmly responds, "I decided to cut my losses."

For once, a brief moment of comfortable silence ensues, before Steve builds the audacity to say what's on his mind. "You tell great stories, you know?"

He half-expects the god to twist his compliment into something uglier, but Loki doesn't. He turns away as if something else in the room has caught his attention—and smiles, shyly, and so masterfully discreet that Steve almost misses it. And in the blink of an eye, it's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading/being patient/being awesome! Please leave a review, and stay tuned! :)


	16. Path to Asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the long-ish wait. I had some difficulties with this chapter, and it started being too long, so I had to cut it in half. Anyway, thank you all for the continued support. Please enjoy the next chapter! :)

At the break of dawn, Steve descends the steps to the cinderblock room only to find Loki's cell empty. After the initial wave of blood-curling panic had settled long enough for logic to dictate once more, Steve notices on the glass, a small yellow note with a message scrawled in hasty pen etchings. It read:

_Borrowed Loki for science. Overseeing him_ _ responsibly _ _. Can be found in the workshop NOT blowing stuff up._

_-Tony_

Steve makes a frustrated sound before sprinting back the way he came, his footsteps echoing thunderously against the bare cement. The morning—and even the night before—had been suspiciously peaceful, and Steve should have anticipated something like this. He just hopes he isn't too late to prevent anyone from being maimed or murdered yet.

Steve enters the lab through the automatic doors and finds the prospect before him rather strange. Loki is seated on one of the tall stools, eyes covered by a dark metallic device, its wires connecting to an even larger machine. Steve can only see the top of Tony's head beyond the metal and the tangled web of wires. Bruce is leaning against a workbench a few feet away, looking on with vague disapproval.

"What's going on here," Steve says. Loki, still blinded by the machine, angles his head slightly in the soldier's direction, not particularly surprised by his presence. Maybe he had heard Steve come in, and recognized him by the weight of his footsteps.

"Science," came the curt response from the man behind the machines, and Steve frowns, clearly discontented.

"What's the matter with you? You can't just _take_ him."

"Why not? You do it all the time." Tony sticks his head above his invention, his eyebrows raised and lips pressed to a sardonic line. Steve would have found it infuriating if it weren't for his legendary control.

"That's because I have to," he says sternly, "But you—you specifically—should never take him out."

"Why not?" Tony scrunches his nose, lower lip protruding. "I'm being completely responsible. I even have the supervision of a responsible adult. Look, Bruce is right over there."

"You're not really helping your argument," the doctor laughs, shaking his head, "You probably have in here, the three most unstable people in the city. That is, before Steve came in, of course."

"Your Midgardian contraption is giving me a headache," Loki frowns thinly, reminding everyone that he is still here, and not particularly willing either, "What is it that I am supposed go see?"

"Well, in short," Tony says, wincing has a circuit fizzles under his touch, "Asgard."

For the rest of the morning, Steve stays in the lab and talks mostly to Bruce, as the doctor explains the progress of their work in layman's terms. It was difficult to ration the work with so many scientists in the lab, but they finally seemed to have an efficient system going. And progress had been record-breaking in the past couple of days.

In order to use the portal to their benefit, the first step is to understand it inside and out, and Jane's equipment is optimal for the necessary data collections. She and Dr. Selvig have been working at the site of the portal, measuring frequencies and working out algorithms before handing their conclusive work to Tony. And based on Jane's proposals and advice, Tony has been working the means to achieve their end goals, applying theory to real world.

Since the portal was left by a defective Bifrost, there may be several openings linked by the tear, depending on recent usage. Only one path will lead to Asgard, and tracing certain waves to their origin is one way to narrow down the possibilities. They've already identified a potential eave from the gamma measurements, but in order to reach a definite conclusion, they will need to send in a probe. Tony has designed it to work similarly to a sonar, emitting signals that bounce against physical obstacles. A detector would collect the reflected particles and trace the paths to form the original image, possibly of Asgard. And this is why Loki is needed, to verify if they have indeed found their way to the realm of the gods.

"That's quite something," Steve says, impressed at both ingeniousness of their work and Bruce's ability to describe such intricate work in a comprehensible manner. Why doesn't the doctor speak for the scientists more often?

"And it's not exactly easy, Cap," Tony quips in, "Considering the closest structures we can detect are at least 100 feet away from the portal opening."

"You speak as if it is my fault." Loki purses his lips, delicate fingers curling against the sense metal, as if tempted to yank it off.

"Well, considering if you left one statue, or a pole, or even railings intact when you destroyed the bridge, we wouldn't be having this problem." Tony frowns, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as he adjusts the display before him.

"It was Thor who destroyed the bridge," the god corrects with a hint of a sneer, "And there were no railings, or any of that sort, to begin with."

"How do you prevent people from falling off, then?"

"Who would be daft enough to fall off the Bifrost? Is that why Midgardian bridges have railings?"

For the remainder of the hour, Steve watches with faint amusement as the inventor and the god bicker like obstinate children, although their insults are half-hearted at best. The sight isn't as strange as it probably would have been a month ago, but Steve can still hardly grasp the concept of Loki on their side, working honestly and diligently. It prompts more wishful thinking that Steve would have liked.

He wants to give Loki the benefit of the doubt—it's in his nature to see the best in people—but sometimes, with the world at stake, he simply cannot afford to. Loki doesn't care about Earth, about the millions of innocent lives endangered simply by his presence. He only cares for himself, for freedom and redemption, his mother in Asgard, and perhaps, little else. For now, they share a similar goal—a common enemy. Thanos has once been Loki's ally, after all, and the Avengers his enemy. The god's loyalty is circumstantial at best, transient and whimsical like the wind.

"There," the god sharply states, "An arch."

"Wait, hold on." Tony ducks behind his machine and alters a few switches and wires. "What about now?"

"It is unmistakable." The god straightens in his seat, the device covering his eyes tilting slightly from the sudden shift in equilibrium. "The arch to the entrance of the bridge."

"You sure?"

"Yes, it is Asgard."

"Well then, this confirms it." Tony disentangles himself from the wires, lifting his fists in a gesture of victory. "Jarvis, contact Jane and tell her that she was right about the gamma signature. We found the path to Asgard."

"Right away, sir," came the monotonic voice of the artificial intelligence.

"That's great, Tony," Steve commends, and the inventor's lips curve into his characteristic grin.

"All in a day." He bows in a feigned gesture of humility, and as infuriating as Tony can be, Steve has to admit that infinitely lucky to have him—all of the scientists—who are, after all, the brightest minds mankind has to offer.

"Good work, reindeer games," Tony says, stepping over a few spare parts and loose wires to reach the god, before removing the device from Loki's head. "Couldn't have done it without you."

Tony drops his hand on the god's shoulder, almost encouragingly, but Loki delicately shrugs the lingering hand away.

###

Steve doesn't realize how much he enjoyed talking to Loki until their strangely domestic routine of living comes to an abrupt end. After realizing Loki's resourcefulness and _willingness_ to help, the scientists begin to visit the god more and more often, and suddenly, the god's time and attention no longer belonged solely to Steve.

Despite their differences, Jane and Tony share at least one similar quirk, a certain moral ambiguity when it comes to science and discovery. It's difficult to explain, but Steve can only describe it as a flicker in the depth of their eyes—a hint of mania, almost—whenever Loki's words could promise answers to the mysteries of the universe.

Jane accepts the prospect of working with Loki with surprisingly little hesitation—considering his acts of terrorism only a year ago and his repeated attempts to murder Thor, and even her on one occasion. But despite these past grievances, Jane is civil, and poised, and strictly professional with Loki, the subject of Thor an unspoken taboo agreed upon by both parties. She doesn't quarrel or tease like Tony, but speaks with similar insistency. It's something Bruce and Dr. Selvig lack, the latter scientists more wary towards the god, choosing to step back while Jane and Tony do most of the prodding.

Loki still depends on Steve for food, at least—the scientists usually going their separate ways for meals, or opting to eat alone while they work, and never really considers Loki. Steve orders Mediterranean one night, and after dinner and cleaning up, he finds Loki watching him expectantly from the doors to the corridor, to be returned to his cell.

"You can sleep here if you want, in the guest room," Steve says, his words perhaps a little stiff, despite how well practiced they were in his head, "There's more space, and you don't have to sleep with the lights on."

Loki looks at him, confused—or at least as confused as he could appear without altering most of his facial features.

"I figured there's no point in bringing you back. You spend more time outside the cell than in. And considering the amount of time we were careless, you could have easily killed at least one of us, if you wanted to. So I fully believe that you are not here to kill us—now, at least."

Steve knows better than to jinx their luck, and the slight unsteadiness in his voice must have been obvious to the god, but it earns him a small smile, nonetheless.

"I'm not going to lock you in, or anything," the soldier continues, "But Jarvis will still surveillance you, like he does with everyone here. Is that alright?"

Loki nods, expression resolutely neutral, with the exception of his eyes, subtly betraying him with a faint flicker of doubt. He rests a tentative hand to the knob of the guestroom door, and looks at Steve for any last changes of heart.

"But, do me a favor though," Steve adds, deciding to take at least some precaution, "Don't leave the room until I come for you in the morning. Okay?"

"Yes," the god says without any further assessment, stepping inside and soon disappearing from view. "Goodnight, Captain,"

"Goodnight." Steve returns before maneuvering towards his own room, all the while contemplating the worst possible outcomes of his questionable decision.

###

Steve locks the door to his room instead, realizing almost immediately the flaws in his impulsive and fanciful thinking. Sure, letting Loki stay in an actual room is a nice gesture, especially after how helpful he had been to the scientists, but that doesn't mean the god is any less of a safety hazard. And now, a convicted war criminal is unlocked and unguarded, with only two thin walls separating him from Steve—who is soon about to be unconscious and vulnerable, along with the rest of the tower and the city beyond. This might very well be the worst decision Steve has made in his entire life.

"Jarvis?" He says after tossing and turning for at least fifteen minutes.

"Yes, Captain."

"Make sure Loki doesn't leave the room. And if he does, alert me at once. And only me."

"Should I secure the doors, sir?" The AI's tone sounds suspiciously reprimanding, although Steve chalks it up to his own guilt and paranoia.

"No, that's not necessary," Steve says, sliding his palm against his brows to ease a ghosting headache. "But can you shut down the elevators. Or at least, program is so no one can come to or leave my floor."

"Yes, right away, sir."

Steve has terrible sleep that night, plagued by epic dreams of cloud pillars and falling glass. He was scaling the Alps with the Howling Commandos when the Chitauri attacked. He fought alongside Bucky—back to back—as the metallic humanoids surround them. They last only a few minutes before Bucky is knocked off balance at the edge of the snowy cliff. Steve sees Bucky fall, his face contorted in fear and mouth agape in a silent scream. Steve lunges after his friend, and against all odds, is able to take a hold of his outstretched hand. But the moment they touch, Bucky transforms to Peggy, and they're dangling off the balcony of Stark Tower—the Chitauri soldiers the only consistent presence. Peggy parts her lips to speak, but the Hulk snatches them both before she gets chance and hurls them into the sky. They land in a bed—Steve's bed from his apartment in Soho—and Peggy is above him, clinging to the fabric of his shirt and trembling uncharacteristically. Steve threads his fingers into Peggy's hair, and realizes that it's longer than he remembered. He opens his eyes to see Loki merely inches away, and Steve leans in, wanting to kiss him. But Loki scrambles away, utterly terrified, and before Steve could fully comprehend how much that hurt, a bolt of lighting shatters his skylight, and Loki is engulfed. Once Steve blinks away the spots in his eyes, he realizes that he is no longer in his apartment, but a fluorescently lit room with white walls on four sides. He sees a woman nearby, sitting in a white chair—her back to Steve—and without even seeing her face, Steve somehow knows that she is the woman from the drawing. He calls to her, but she doesn't respond, so he grabs her shoulder and turns her around, and sees blood trickling from the corner of her eyes.

Steve wakes up to his own startled gasp, limbs flailing against ghosts. He lies sprawled in his bed for a minute after realizing where he is, and waits for the thumping of his heart to ease. The dream is fading in his memory already. Steve closes his eyes and forces his mind blank, feeling nothing but the cool night air against his damp skin. He was never one to delve into the subconscious, but that almost kiss with the dream Loki—before his presumed demise—doesn't escape his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

After another twenty minutes of mental over activity, Steve ventures into the kitchen for a glass of water. He doesn't even realize how parched he was until his first glass is completely empty. He fills another and savors until it's half full, and only then does he notice a faint glow of fluorescent light coming beneath his guest bedroom door.

Steve approaches the room without much thought and presses his palm against the door, hardly expecting it to open after the gentlest of pushes. He instinctively ducks as something is hurled towards the vicinity of his head—the alarm clock Pepper had bought along with the rest of the furniture in the room. Steve hears it shatter and break against the wall on the other side.

"Woah—there, easy," he quickly says, raising both hands. Loki is obviously awake. "I—sorry about barging in. The lights were on so I thought maybe you're awake and—I don't know why I didn't knock. I should have—"

Steve breaks off, brows pinching, as he realizes that something is definitely off. Loki's chest is heaving—shoulders taut and eyes ablaze—and he's not easing off, even after knowing it had just been Steve outside, being an idiot. The god is trying to school his features and is doing a surprisingly poor job, his Adam's apple quivering treacherously every time he swallows. His hands are clutching the bed sheets, knuckles boney white, and Steve dares to take a careful step inside, closing the door behind him.

"—Are you okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is motivation and love. Until next time!


	17. Sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry about the cruel cliff-hanger last time. I felt bad enough to whip up the next chapter sooner than planned, so there, all better. Enjoy~
> 
> And LOL, in response to some of the reviews, Steve won't be seeing action for awhile (sorry!). He can't really allow himself to like Loki (freely at least) until his opinion of the god completely changes, even more drastically than now. Sure, he enjoys spending time with the god, as almost-friends, but they are still cautious towards each other. And Steve isn't about to forget how Loki killed so many people, just because the god turns out to have a not-so-terrible personality. LOL idk...I just want to give my two cents without spoiling anything. Their relationship is probably going to be the most drawn out saga I'll ever attempt.
> 
> But action is possible...eventually /cough

Loki doesn't speak, doesn't move, and watches Steve like a wounded creature—a trigger away from attacking. The soldier remains motionless by the door, feeling awkward and a little bit stupid. He moves to pocket his restless hands before realizing he only had boxers on, accompanied by a thin t-shirt. Steve swallows thickly—suddenly overwhelmed by a completely new sense of self-consciousness—before reminding himself that Loki is a guy, so it doesn't matter, and surely his state of undress isn't the reason why Loki is so upset.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks again. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Why are you here?" The god, of course, completely ignores the question. His voice is steady, although it didn't seem effortless.

"I—Well," Steve winces, because he's not entirely sure himself, "I wasn't planning to come in—like this, at least. The door sort of just opened."

Loki's jaws tighten. "Leave."

"No," the soldier speaks with surprisingly little hesitation, and the good appears taken aback, by the abruptness and rudeness of Steve's persistency. "Tell me what's wrong first."

Loki continues to glare him in stony silence, as if looks alone could banish the soldier from his sight.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Steve asks after a pause, to with the god responds with barely contained rage.

"My quality of sleep is none of your concern."

"So is that a yes?"

"Maybe," the god snaps, frowning viciously, "So what? Sleep is of little importance to me, and your pitiful eyes is neither warranted or desired."

"I'm not _pitying_ you," Steve sighs, feeling a small ache looming over his temples, "I was just worried. About you."

"I need none of that either," came the icy reply, and Steve lingers for a moment, almost contemplating walking away, before grimacing and offering the only assumption he can think of.

"Is it nightmares?"

Loki twists his lips to a harsh sneer. "Why would I lose sleep to something so banal and infantile as bad dreams?"

"Well, everyone gets those from time to time," Steve responds someone defensively, remembering his reason for being awake at this hour. "It's normal to have them."

"No, it is not _nightmares_ ," Loki spits the words like sour wine, and Steve frowns, clueless to why his mere suggestion had warranted such scorn. Surely, Loki has his fair share of unhappy thoughts, regrets, and even fears—and a grim reminder from his subconscious should hardly be unexpected.

"So what is it then?" Steve insists, softening his tone as a means of encouragement, "You have to be sleeping with the lights on for a reason."

"I am not obliged to tell you." Loki shifts on the bed so that he is cross-legged, facing Steve with almost child-like obstinacy, "Your plant is not in danger, and I have this under control."

Steve's furrowed brows suddenly rise, his eyes widening. "This is about Thanos, isn't it,"

Loki presses his lips together, shoulders tense, and he looks tired—he must be, to give himself away like that. "Perhaps. To an extent," he speaks through clenched teeth.

"What is it?" Steve feels adrenaline rushing in his veins, sleepiness long dissipated. "Does he know you're here? Is he coming?"

"No, he is not aware of my exact whereabouts," Loki closes his eyes, his words sounding like reluctant sighs, "But he knows that I am alive and well, which would narrow down the possibilities."

"What do you mean?"

"There are other realms I could have fallen to," the god smiles thinly, "where the inhabitants are less hospitable."

Loki's probably right, so Steve doesn't argue with that, but the thought of Loki stranded elsewhere—powerless in the lands of less sympathetic enemies—it leaves a thick knot in the bit of his stomach. "Tell me what's going on. How does he know?"

The god inhales deeply, and Steve can already predict a long, convoluted explanation, followed by inevitable bad news. And if he's lucky, Loki might even tell him the whole truth.

"I cannot sleep. As in, I forbid myself to," the god says, almost guiltily, "Because Thanos can infiltrate my mind through my subconscious, and sleep would leave me vulnerable."

"But, you can't just _not_ sleep—" Steve looks at Loki with a touch of skepticism, before remembering all those early morning visits, and not once had he found the god actually resting. He breaks off suddenly with a sharp inhalation. "Have you slept at all these past weeks?"

Loki raises his chin resolutely, before answering, "No."

And for a moment, Steve simply gapes. "Are you insane? How are you even functioning?"

"Asgardians do not need sleep, at least, not to the extent of humans."

"You can't keep this up forever, though."

"Once I return to Asgard, sleep would not be such an immediate threat."

Steve wants so say it's a bad idea. Sleep-deprivation can be one of the worst forms of torture, and when a threshold is reached, people will lose their minds. Although Loki isn't people, so perhaps, he can actually pull it off. Steve had spent most of his waking hours with Loki, and nothing had suggested of the god's abstinence from sleep—that is, until tonight.

"If he gets you when you sleep, is it like nightmares, then?" Steve asks, and the glower he received appeared almost feral, prompting the soldier to quickly withdraw in apology. "Sorry, just trying to relate…Are you tired?"

"No, I am fine."

"So what happened tonight, then? With the clock and—"

Loki raises an elegant brow, assessing Steve with those oh-so-clever eyes, before responding in feigned frivolity, "You visit had been unexpected."

Steve crosses his arms, lips curving at the half-hearted attempt to downplay their previous incident. "We both know that's not what actually happened. Want to try again?"

Loki frowns, his eyes downcast, and it's evident that he had been stalling, trying to avoid the conversation at all, if possible. "I had been careless, but only for a brief moment," he eventually says, "It is the first and only mistake I have made, and I will not repeat it."

It is a vague response that answers nothing at all, but it's enough to validate some of Steve's previous suspicions. "You dozed off, didn't you? And Thanos came to you in your sleep, and that's why you reacted the way you did. Because you thought I was him."

Loki doesn't utter a word, but his face said it all—they way those brilliant eyes cloud, and paper-thin lips twist into a grimace. "What does it matter?" His voice is harsh, brittle even, "Your planet is safe and will remain so, I give you my word. Thanos cannot poison my mind as long as I am guarded, and surely, I will not freely surrender just so I can vex you."

He ends with a harsh exhale, nearly shaking with anger (and maybe something else), and Steve can't say that the lashing out was entirely unexpected. Perhaps, he had been to up-front—and in turn, too harsh—with the god, the subject of Thanos obviously a complex topic. But this is Steve's responsibility—his _only_ one at this point—and he isn't about to risk the safety of the entire plant just because Loki gets defensive.

"I'm sorry. I want to believe you, but it's going to take a little more work on both of our parts." He keeps his tone decisive, but gentler, knowing that he is walking on eggshells right now with the god's cooperation. He takes a bold step closer to Loki, before reach for the chair by the reading desk. He turns it around to face the bed, and sits, as if to convey that he is not going anywhere. "Tell me what's going. Please."

Heavy silence hands between them, before the god finally surrenders, muttering through clenched teeth. "Fine. What do you wish to know?"

If feels as if they're back to square one—to interrogations and half-truths, in lieu of wit and conversation—and the thought of it tears into Steve's heart. But this is his job after all, and his interactions with Loki should be strictly business, ever since the start. He doesn't even recall the moment they had become—almost-friends.

"How is he able to do that to you?" He asks once Loki seems more relaxed, his delicate features no longer contorted in anger, leaving him simply wary and sad.

"During our brief alliance, Thanos had forged an immutable link from his consciousness to mine, so that he may monitor my actions, if needed. Since then, I have managed to suppress this connection to a point where it is only possible if I willingly forgo my consciousness, during sleep."

"Did you agree to this, or did he—" Steve doesn't know how to put this elegantly, and Loki's impassive stare isn't exactly helping, either.

"The prospect did not seem terrible, at the time."

There are many clues to suggest that the alliance might not have been wholly compliant on the god's part, but Loki is too proud to admit that straightforwardly, and Steve feels he has no right to delve into matters beyond the welfare of Earth. He wonders whether Asgard had taken Loki's possible reluctance into consideration when they determined his punishment. Surely, Steve can't be the only one concerned, but for now, he decides to drop the subject. The past is immutable, and the consequences are what they need to deal with right now.

"What happens when you fall asleep? Does he just—take over?"

"The subjugation is a gradual, step-wise process, and it takes time," the god says, "Hearing is lost first, followed by speech, sight, and lastly, movement and sensation. Without the control of the last two senses, Thanos cannot learn my exact whereabouts."

"So earlier before—"

"I could only hear his voice, before regaining consciousness, and in turn, severing the link."

Steve leans into the back of the chair, and waits until the information sinks in. He wonders if Loki knows this from experience, and if so, how many times has it happened? "What about when you first got here. You were out for almost the entire day."

"After invading Asgard, he needed time to recover. But now, he searches for me fervently."

"So what are you going to do?" Steve taps his index finger against the surface of desk, feeling restless.

Loki looks somewhat confused by the question. "I will keep from sleeping for the remainder of my stay on Midgard. It can be easily achieved, so worry not."

"What about afterwards, when you go back? Are you going to have bad dreams about Thanos for the rest of your life?"

"Not for the rest of my life." Loki lifts his chin—poised, resolute, and unbearably frustrating, "Once these chains are remove, my magic will protect me."

"Well, I hope it does," Steve half-scoffs, no longer able to hide the bite in his words, and it is Loki's turn to look at him with questioning eyes.

"What is the matter?" The god furrows his brows, head slightly angled. "Was my response unsatisfactory?"

"No," Steve says, his palm pressing against the desk, hard enough to hear it crack beneath. "You should have told me before. Why didn't you?"

"There is nothing you can do." Loki responds with unnerving calmness.

"We could have figured something out—" The words seem to fumble against Steve's tongue, leaving his mouth the minute his brain conceives them. "—gotten you more books, or movies, or something that doesn't put you to sleep—instead of leaving you alone all night. Or maybe Tony and Jane could've—"

"I am a prisoner, am I not?" Loki frowns, "What does it matter if I am entertained or not."

"It's not completely about you." Steve feels his patience thinning, and it takes an effort not to lash out, "If Thanos manages to get his army here, everyone on the planet is in danger."

"How many times must I repeat myself," the god practically snarls, teeth bearing and matching Steve's indignation in every way, "I have personal incentive to prevent such tragedy, and I do not need your help in preserving the integrity of my mind. Notify Asgard of my whereabouts, and I will gladly leave your precious planet intact."

Steve presses his hands to his eyes, frustrated and wishing this conversation hadn't taken place at such an ungodly hour. "For a prisoner, you hardly act like one."

He doesn't mean for the thought to leave his mind, and is almost as surprised as Loki to hear it aloud. The god presses his lips to a grim line, readily insulted.

"What I meant to say was—" Steve shakes his head, holding up his hand. "—Alright, so you're _not_ a prisoner, in the traditional sense at least. Despite our differences, we're working towards the same goal, and you've been a lot of help to Tony and Jane, and—"

"Yes, and all well-behaved monsters deserve positive reinforcement."

"No, stop twisting my words." Steve eyes Loki sternly, and the god appears to withdraw, although his characteristic defiance remains ingrained in his expression. "We don't trust you completely. Given our history, it's nearly impossible to. But we believe that returning you to Asgard is the most appropriate thing to do, and that's something we both want. My point is, we don't have to treat each other like enemies, because we're not right now. No one has a problem with you in the lab or staying at the tower, so stop acting like we're the worst people in the world to you."

Loki's features relax, and Steve wants to believe that he's actually getting his point across—although with the god, he can never be sure. "You actually understand Tony when he speaks, and you helped Jane with her research, a lot," He continues, voice softening and wanting Loki to realize he means everything he says. "I'm serious. You probably fit better with them than I do."

"And Barton? Romanoff?" Loki's lips thinned to a wan little smile, and Steve wonders if the inevitability of the agents' return actually bothers him.

"Yeah, well—" The soldier sighs, because there's no point in mincing words, "—They'll need some time to get use to, but that's expected. We all needed time, and surprisingly, it didn't take as long as I would've imagined."

As uncomfortably revealing as those last words had been, Steve feels that it's something important that Loki needs to know. Although whether the god trusts him (or is willing to exploit him) is an entirely different matter. Loki's expressions aren't exactly easy to read, but Steve wants to believe that they've reached some sort of a truce—again.

"So I've said this to you once already," Steve concludes with all the awkward formality of an ill-timed afterthought, "But if there's anything else—regardless of whether we have any control over it or not—you have to tell us. Or at least me. Do you understand?"

Loki nods, almost entirely out of obligation.

"So is there anything else?"

"No," came the curt reply, and Steve reclines into his chair.

"Alright," the soldier says, threading his fingers through the front of his hair, feeling exhausted and unsure of that to believe. "Good."

###

"Okay, how about this one?" Tony ghosts his fingers over the display screen, and the previous model of the probe morphs into something completely new. This is the fourth one they've seen so far, and Steve wonders how the inventor could conjure up so many viable designs in a matter of days.

The soldier normally doesn't partake in the scientists' exertions, and spends his hours overseeing Loki instead, but now that the god has integrated into the lab, Steve has no other choice but to follow in suite.

Theoretically, he doesn't have to, considering Loki would be under the supervision of two Avengers—although Tony and Bruce aren't the epitome of trustworthiness and stability, respectively. If the team were actually assembled, handing Clint this assignment is completely suicidal, although Natasha's cleverness and composure would make her an acceptable candidate. Nonetheless, Steve firmly believes that no one is more capable than he is in dealing with Loki, and therefore, it is his responsibility to accompany the scientists, regardless of the likely redundancy.

"The overall size seems more appropriate," Dr. Selvig remarks. The previous models had been too weighed down. "Can you show the mass distributions, again?"

"They're all the same." Tony speeds his fingers across the keyboard, frowning somewhat impatiently as if he's unaccustomed to others questioning, or even rejecting his work. "It won't have a problem syncing with the frequencies."

"So once we send this thing through the portal, how would we know if it actually reached?" Bruce asks, tapping a finger to his chin in thought.

"I'll build in a signal generator," Tony responds, "A rudimentary one considering we can't weigh it down to much. We won't get any nice pictures, but it'll do the trick at least. Do we have any idea how long it'll take to travel through the portal? "

"Hopefully, no more than a few hours," Jane says, "The connection should be direct, although the exact distance is impossible to predict, considering how time and space themselves are distorted."

"If your— _invention_ —" Loki's lips twist somewhat unnaturally around the word, as if he had conditioned himself not to use 'Midgardian toys' anymore, when referring to Tony's work. "—do manages to reach Asgard. How do you plan to convey your message?"

"I'm glad you asked." Tony grins before displaying the contents of a new folder. "At first, I was just going to use an audio recording, but then I thought, why not be a little more impressive?"

The inventor opens a file, and soon, a holographic image begins to materialize beside him—a young, busty woman dressed in kinky metal and leather.

"Of course, this is just an example of my recent work in visual technology." Tony rolls his eyes in response to several humorless glares. "I'm not actually going to use Bethany to contact Asgard."

"Is she supposed to speak?" Loki inquires, woefully unimpressed.

"Anything I want."

Tony does some quick reprogramming, and suddenly the digital woman comes to life. "You've been a bad boy, Loki," she drawls, licking her ruby lips as a riding crop suddenly appears in her hands, "And bad boys deserve to be punished."

"Tony!" Jane hisses—clearly appalled—and the inventor raises his hands in surrender, before making a few adjustments to the display so that an exact replica of his Iron Man suit stands in lieu of the half-naked woman.

"Fine. Whatever. I was going to use a hologram of myself all along."

"This will not work," Loki says briskly, and Tony purses his lips in response to the challenge.

"Of course it will. Why wouldn't it?"

"Odin's guards live by the model of kill first and ask questions later. Your device will not survive long enough to deliver the message."

The inventor crosses his arms and frowns, the hologram Iron Man mimicking his gesture. "So what are you suggesting then?"

"A message that cannot be destroyed by brute force or fire." Loki waves a regal hand.

"What. Like a hunk of metal with the message engraved?"

"That would be acceptable."

Tony scrunches his nose at the prospect. "And you call _us_ the primitive race?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is motivation and love. Till next time :)


	18. Matters Between Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed.
> 
> And just to answer some questions on Steve seeing action. Without giving anything away, things might progress a little faster in the next few chapters. Although action as in sex (not sure if I'm even any good at writing sex) won't happen until they've both gone through hell and back. I think ten chapters is a good estimate (I haven't really divided the rest of the plot into specific chapters yet)…So yeah, sorry I can't tell you more at the moment.
> 
> If anyone has more questions, feel free to ask.

"Hey!"

Having just completed his morning run in Central Park, Steve looks over his shoulder to see Jane jogging towards him, her hair drawn back in a high ponytail and cheeks flushed from exertion.

"Hey." The soldier lifts his hand in a half wave, mildly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Jane laughs, breath slightly uneven. "What does it look like?"

"What I meant was—" Steve grins sheepishly, "You're not here a lot, are you? Because I'm here every morning, and it's the first time we ran into each other."

"Oh, I don't do this nearly as often as I should—with research and everything else going on," Jane says rather demurely, wiping perspiration off her chin with the back of her hand. "But since I finally have a morning to myself, I thought I'd clear my mind a bit—you know, before things get hectic again."

"Right," Steve nods understandingly, "I guess you'll be needing Loki again?"

"If you don't mind," Jane wrinkles her delicate brows, and Steve is quick to indicate otherwise—perhaps a little too quick.

"No, of course not. Why would I?"

"Oh—I don't know," The scientist squares her shoulders, astounded almost, by the soldier's exuberance. "I just thought maybe you have better things to do. I know how dull it could seem, in the lab."

"Well, believe it or not, I don't actually have anything better" Steve laughs, "And the last time I left Tony alone with Loki, they ended up destroying SHIELD's best containment chamber. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"A wise decision," Jane agrees, "But I blame Tony completely on that last incident—Although, if I didn't know better, Loki seems almost— _normal—_ like not unpleasant to be around…"

She winces slightly at the ill-worded confession, and upon receiving no hint of agreement (or disagreement) from Steve, the scientist attempts to make quick amends. "I know I wasn't here for New York—it's horrible what he did. So horrible, I guess it's a little hard to believe, even."

"I know what you mean," Steve says just as Jane was about to apologize, it seems, "He had help too, so he probably shouldn't get all the blame. But what's done is done, and all we can do now is prevent it from getting worse."

Jane doesn't respond but nods in agreement, and a brief moment of silence passes before the soldier speaks again. "I'm about to head back to the tower, actually. Are you done with your run?"

The sun is halfway over the skyline by now, and whatever briskness of the early morning is soon to disappear under the summer heat.

"I am," Jane responds, "But do you mind if I grab breakfast and coffee from the stand first?"

"Are you in a rush or something" Steve frowns with a touch of confusion, to which the scientist mirrors.

"Not really. Why?"

"Well, there's plenty of food in the tower," the soldier shrugs, "And Tony takes pride in his coffee almost as much as his alcohol. We might as well use that to our advantage."

"Right," Jane laughs, ducking her head in embarrassment, "I'm actually an awful cook, and I've been mooching off of Bruce these past couple of days, but I can't today. So I guess I'll be eating out."

"Really?" Steve arches a brow and grins, "Even breakfast?"

"Don't judge." Jane protests with a half-hearted punch to the soldier's bicep, which is—in some ways—adorable. "Tony is doing the same, with Pepper away."

"Well, I'll be making breakfast," Steve offers, "You're welcome to join us, if you want."

"Us?"

"Well, Loki and me."

"Oh, right." Jane widens her eyes, before looking away almost shyly, as if the prospect of Loki having basic needs (and Steve being his sole provider) had escaped her completely. "Would it be okay if I eat with you guys?"

"Of course," the soldier says, "I don't see why not."

They return to the tower just as the heat begins to bear down, and they part ways in the elevator, agreeing to meet after freshening up. Steve enters his living area and drops his keys and wallet on the counter, before going into the kitchen for a glass of water. He hears Loki moving about in his room and thinks it must be terrible—not being able to sleep and forced to live out every single day without a moment of peace of mind. His time on earth must drag on indefinitely.

By the time Steve emerges from his room, freshly showered, Loki is already waiting in the living room sofa, staring resolutely ahead at nothing in particular. After he had learned that Loki couldn't sleep, Steve granted the god access to his bookshelf and TV—anything available on his floor, to help him pass the time. Steve's bedroom is strictly off limits though, and the soldier continues to lock his door every night, even if Loki appears to have no intention of violating the only criteria. Steve tries to comfort himself with the thought, although it doesn't make him any less nervous before going to sleep.

"Jane is going to eat with us, alright?" He announces, as he opens the cabinets.

Loki doesn't respond, and Steve contemplates on repeating himself before deciding otherwise, because surely, Loki had heard him. There is nothing in the stony silence of the room that could have obscured his message.

Jane steps through the automatic doors moments later, perhaps sooner than Steve had expected. She lingers by entrance briefly—seeing the back of Loki's head in the living area, before noticing Steve in the kitchen.

"Give me ten more minutes," the soldier says as the scientist approaches, her hair damp and combed back.

"Ten whole minutes?" Jane leans against the counter, a faint smile on her lips, "Must be some fancy eggs."

That draws a laugh out of Steve, and the soldier shakes his head before placing the pan on the stove. "Have you ever cooked anything in your life?"

"I have. Just not well. Do you need any help?"

"No, I'm alright. Coffee's ready, if you want to help yourself."

"Right, thanks," Jane responds, her voice distant in that brief moment, prompting the solider to lift his eyes from his tasks. Her eyes are once again fixated on Loki, who hasn't moved an inch since the scientist's arrival.

"Feel free to sit—anywhere," Steve offers, to which Jane nods absently, before taking a few tentative steps away from the kitchen. She approaches the couch before sitting on the end, leaving a respectable distance between herself and the god.

"Good morning, Loki," she says, and the god turns to her—face blank and eyes assessing—and it's enough to make the scientist visibly stiffen.

"Good morning, Dr. Foster."

"You can call me Jane, if you want."

Steve listens to them furtively for the next few minutes, and nearly burns a piece of toast in the process—breakfast, at this point, the least of is concerns. Jane tries to make light conversation, which tragically, is not her strong suit—the god, although polite, appears obviously uninterested. Steve muses at the development, and finds it almost strange that Jane, usually so poised and resolute in her laboratory setting, is having trouble finding her words. Perhaps Loki just has this _effect_ on people—in his dark, self-assured, and dignified way—leaving everyone around him tongue-tied and a little bid nervous.

It doesn't take long before Jane drops the pleasantries altogether, in favor of her true intents. And Steve supposes he should have seen this coming. She's not the kind to remain in hopeful silence forever, and now is when the dam finally bursts.

"I worry about him." Jane says, regarding her clasped hands with profound fixation. "I mean, it's not like this is anyway _normal_ —us being who knows how far apart. He could be hurt, and I wouldn't have a clue. It's awful—and exhausting."

Loki doesn't respond, neither in protest nor in encouragement, and Jane looks at him with vague hopefulness for a moment, before building enough courage to continue, "Did he—since the last time you saw him, whenever that might be—did he seem okay?"

The god looks at her, eyes like cool-daggers. "You need not worry of matters beyond your control. Matters between gods." His voice is aloof, like reluctant charity.

"I-I know," Jane responds, her speech appearing caught, "It's just hard—not to worry."

"Then, perhaps you should consider what you hope to achieve, with your constant worrying." Loki says, cold but lacking in any real cruelty, "I commend you—may it be a blessing or a curse—as the first mortal to learn of Asgard beyond your myths, and perhaps, you will even be first to step afoot, only fate can tell. But remember that you are mortal, your life an instant in the timespan of eternal. So concentrate on your earthly goals—You are bright enough to triumph where others have failed. But I advise you to live as mortals should. Worry not of matters between gods."

"Alright, so breakfast—" Steve promptly intervenes, although he fears that damage has already been dealt. He sets the plates on the coffee table, before sitting in the only available seat, between Jane and Loki. "I hope you didn't set your expectations too high," he says, handing a plate to the scientist, "But tell me if I make eggs better than Bruce."

Jane takes the plate and returns a smile, dimmed behind a veil of smoke.

They eat in mostly silence, and Steve tries to ease some of the tension with idle conversation, although neither of his guests are in a talkative mood. An eternity passes before the meal is done, and Jane—after thanking Steve for his hospitality—leaves without a moment's hesitation.

And once they are finally alone, the soldier turns to the god, frowning in stern disapproval. "That wasn't very nice. What you said to Jane."

Loki's lips twist rather indignantly as their eyes meet, and Steve feels his stomach clench, feeling more insulted than he should.

"Thor is betrothed to Lady Sif. The arrangements had been made since the moment of conception. Perhaps I should have told Dr. Foster that, instead."

The god breaks off harshly, before turning away, and for a long duration after, Steve is left simply speechless. He wonders if Loki was actually _trying_ to be kind, considering he could have been much crueler with this kind of information. And Steve had reprimanded him for it.

Jane probably doesn't know. A woman of her dignity would never involve herself with a "betrothed" man—god, whatever. And perhaps Thor had been too tempted (or cowardly) to speak the truth, and judging from his previous blunders—and the faults of gods alike—Thor might not exactly be the epitome of moral judgment, even if he is trying. Steve wonders if Loki wanted to help Jane, because if he simply intended to hurt Thor, he could have been much more blunt. The soldier wonders whether he should say something at this point—apologize to the god, offer some sort of subtle encouragement, or—

"She is bold," Loki says dourly, gripping Steve from his thoughts, "Or perhaps foolish to think that happy endings exist, in a position like hers."

"Who knows?" Steve contests, despite his better judgment, "There might be a slim chance."

Loki laughs, sharp and condescending and bitter. "Perhaps you should heed the warning of your ancestors—there are some truths in your woeful myths, after all—so that tragedies do not repeat. Mortals ought not meddle in matters between gods, especially those dealing with sentiment and love. Such wretchedness will enslave you to fates worse than death."

"Easier said than done," Steve says absently, and Loki tightens his jaw, looking away. It might have been more revealing than the soldier had planned, but it's too late to do anything about it.

Despite his efforts at subtlety, Steve wonders if the god knows. For the sake of the planet, the team, and his own morals and sanity, Steve has suppressed his desires as best as he could, and banks on the optimism that they are merely products of loneliness and boredom, surely to fade with time. Although admittedly, there is a small part of him that wants Loki to know—just to see what will happen. Maybe if the world is ending and nothing else mattered, he'd allow himself to feel, uninhibitedly. But until then, they carry on with tomorrow in sight—and Loki is still the fallen prince, while Steve is just _Steve_.

###

Steve wakes up in the middle of the night, conflicted over dreams he doesn't quite remember. He stares blankly at the ceiling for a minute, as reality clears boggled mind, before rising from the comforts of his bed, for a glass of water. He hears no movements beyond his door. Loki must have retired to his room as well.

After the incident with Jane, the rest of the day had proceeded as normal as can be—strictly business in the lab, with the exception of Tony's wise remarks. Jane didn't mention Thor again or their previous conversation, posing herself with utmost neutrality, as if to say no hard feelings, or that she didn't expect much to begin with. Regardless of any personal riffs, science progressed as usual, and there is nothing to worry about—Steve was told—because time for once is on their side.

The soldier slips into the kitchen and fills a glass, and once his throat is no longer dry, he notices the familiar golden light seeping through the cracks of Loki's door, almost invitingly. He wonders whether he should return to bed and sleep for another few hours, or check up on the god, who surely must be awake.

Steve doesn't quite know what he would say, but he finds himself maneuvering towards the door despite his doubts, until there is nothing left to do but knock. He taps his knuckles lightly against the wood twice, and waits.

"Loki?" He whispers after receiving no response, so he knocks again. He waits another ten seconds, before realizing that something is definitely off.

"I'm coming in," he announces, pushing the door open, and what he finds is the God of Mischief sprawled on top of the mattress, eyes closed.

Loki, apparently, fell asleep.

A paperback copy of _Moby Dick_ lays open on his chest, and Steve shakes his head, thinking that the god couldn't have chosen a more unfortunate book, with the intention of late night vigils in mind. Even with Loki's outstanding pace, he only got through a third of it.

Steve finds himself staring unwittingly at the unconscious god—dark hair fanned against the pillow, lips parted, and lashes casting long shadows over porcelain skin. Steve is tempted to let the god sleep, but knows that he can't risk it—not with the entire planet hanging in the balance.

Fear suddenly knots into his stomach, as the soldier wonders whether he's already too late, that Loki's mind is already lost. And once the god finally opens his eyes, they will no longer dazzling green, but blood red like the monster in the portrait.

Steve reaches a cautious hand to Loki's shoulder and pushes gently. No response.

Loki surprisingly is a heavy sleeper, but that might've been the combined effects of two sleepless weeks, Melville, and the tireless days spent with the scientists. It must've worn him out.

"Loki, wake up." Steve pushes a little harder this time, and the god frowns rather peevishly at the disturbance, although his eyes remain closed.

"Leave me be." Loki bats Steve's hand away as if it were an irksome fly, before turning to his side and curling along a spare pillow. "You are a blundering oaf, brother, and I am in no mood for your trivialities."

The rest of the sentence is somewhat muffled and obscured, but Steve has no doubts that the god is dreaming of Asgard, before his fall and betrayal, when Thor had still been "brother." Steve's heart actually aches.

The soldier withdraws his hand and reasons that if Loki is dreaming of Thor, he surely can't be possessed by Thanos. Steve might as well let Loki grasp onto what comforts he has left, while he can. But an unconscious Loki is still an immense risk, just in case Thanos does decide to pay a visit tonight.

Steve inwardly groans before realizing he has no other choice but to _watch_ Loki while he sleeps, as disturbing as it sounds out of context. He certainly can't leave him alone like this.

The soldier takes a seat by the desk, shuffling through some of the books Loki had picked off of his shelf, surprised to find _The Sun Also Rises_ —his "favorite" book which Loki had already read twice already—still occupying a precious spot.

 _It was like certain dinners I remember from the war_ , Steve turns to a random page and reads, _There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent happening. Under the wine I lost the disgusted feeling and was happy. It seemed they were all such nice people._

He skims through the novel in no order in particular—noticing the folds, the fingernail indents, and underlines Loki had pointed out before. The god's faint breathing against the backdrop felt oddly comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review :)


	19. Last Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghhh, sorry for the long wait once again. Beginning of the semester scramble as usual, and I didn't have internet for several days, so yeah—Sorry!
> 
> But please enjoy the slightly long-ish chapter (which I decided to complete, rather than do any of my homework. Huzzah! Priorities!)

Around 6AM, Loki startles awake—wide-eyed and disorientated only briefly—before whipping his towards the unwelcomed soldier in the room. Steve watches as Loki's features placates to eerie calmness, like the peace before a storm.

"What are you doing here?"

Steve closes his book and swallows thickly under the accusing stare. He had tried several times to formulate a proper response to the inevitable confrontation, but his efforts only amassed to empty-mindedness. And therefore, he had long given up, opting to grasp on the slim hope that everything will fall into place one the time comes. And now, as the object of the god's icy disdain, Steve wonders perhaps he shouldn't have perished his efforts so easily.

"I woke up sometime during the night and thought I might as well check up on you—" It took an effort not to cringe. "—Turns out, you fell asleep, and—"

"For how long?"

"Three hours, at least. That's how long I stayed."

The god breathes heavily, lips twitching as if he's not sure where to begin on conveying his disapproval.

"Then, you should have woken me. Why did you not?" He eventually decides, and Steve is almost thankful that the god chooses to fixate on this matter, rather than the fact that Steve had stayed in his bedroom, like a creep.

"Thanos never got to you, right?" Steve asks, as the god narrows his eyes.

"How could you have known?"

"Well," Steve ducks his head. "I would have woken you up if you showed any signs of unrest—if they're anything like nightmares."

"For the last time, Captain—" the god grits his teeth, voice wavering with barely contained rage, "—They are not nightmares. You have no clue as to how his influence can manifest."

"So did he get to you?" Steve grimaces apologetically, and Loki appears to bite back his tongue, although not without effort.

"No," the god answers, "Fortunately, for both of us. If Thanos was able to reach me in Asgard, what chance would Midgard have? This was a needless risk, and you should have woken me."

"I—I'm sorry," Steve manages between a stutter, "I didn't want to wake you, since this might've be the only chance for you to get some rest—I guess maybe I shouldn't have—"

"Spend the remainder of your night watching me sleep." The conversation appears to have gone full-circle, as the god's lips twist wryly to a half-sneer.

Steve feels the flush creeping from ear-to-ear. "I didn't _watch_ you sleep. I stayed just in case something did happen, and I did other stuff too, you know?" He picks up a random book off the pile for emphasis. "Read a little Kafka."

That was a lie, and Steve feels his face burn even more as he discreetly places the book over a small pile of loose papers. Truth is, he had done a few drawings during those hours of vacancy, and they were all of Loki asleep—quiet, and open, and incredibly young. It felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity, seeing the god like this, so Steve felt compelled to take the chance—although admitting it to the god would only make their predicament infinitely worse.

Loki's features appear to placate, and the soldier wonders if he had actually managed to fool the god. Or perhaps, Loki simply chooses to prod no further.

"Are you not tired, Captain?" The god eventually says, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"A little," Steve responds in all honesty, "I can't stay up every night for two weeks like you do, but I don't need sleep like normal people do, either."

"It will not happen again," Loki frowns, frustration etched in the furrow of his brows. He made the promise once already and had failed to keep it, so perhaps he's expecting some form of reproach. Although whatever self-reproach Loki may feel can easily be converted to indignation towards the soldier, if Steve isn't careful with what he says next.

"Okay," the soldier nods, and Loki blinks back at him, almost surprised at the compliance of the response, "I don't doubt your abilities but—if you ever need a break, I want you to tell me beforehand. I don't mind looking after you if it helps in any way so—can you do that? It might not be the safest option, but it's better than the alternative."

Loki looks at him bemusedly, lips parting and pressing as if he's conflicted over what to say. Steve wonders if he had oversimplified their situation (considering he knows little to nothing of Thanos' abilities), and perhaps the god is withholding the urge to reprimand him.

"Thank you, Captain, but that is not necessary," Loki finally decides as he rises from the bed, face devoid of any readable expression. "I am well rested for the remainder of my stay. Now, excuse me."

Loki walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, which Steve will take as his queue to leave. He begins to regret making such a offer—along with the words he had chosen—but concludes that the worst impression he could have made, would be that of hopeful ignorance and stupidity, which is nothing new when it comes to Loki. Steve sighs and gathers his drawings and conceals them within the pages of Kafka, before stepping out to prepare breakfast as he always does.

###

Steve enters the lab with Loki to find Pepper among the scientists, smiling ever so brightly despite the early hour of the morning. Ever since Loki's fall to Earth, Tony has been devoting every minute to SHIELD, leaving Pepper to single-handedly keep Stark Industries running in the absence of their leader. Pepper has been traveling all over the country in lieu of the inventor, and Avengers Tower certainly missed her presence. While Jarvis did the best job any AI could manage give the circumstances, maintenance still lacked the elegant human touch only Pepper could provide. Steve is certainly glad to have her back, because Tony was beginning to look more and more ragged without his incredible girlfriend to firmly plant him. Maybe, Pepper can finally set some biological order to the routines of the scientists—or at least, force them to eat at proper times.

"Good morning, Steve. Loki," the hostess greets, open and radiant.

"Hey, Pepper," Steve returns a smile, "Glad to see you back."

Loki makes no hesitation in approaching the huddled group of scientists among the machines and wires. They work through their usual clashes and disputes, while Steve and Pepper observe musingly from a distance.

"So how has it been, really?" Pepper is the first to speak. "Living at the tower for the past week, or so."

"It's been great," Steve responds, perhaps too hastily, "—or at least, decent considering how crazy it has been. Thanks, again, for letting me live here after the whole—apartment thing."

"Oh, nonsense." Pepper waves a dismissive hand. "Those rooms are yours. You can come and leave whenever you wish, but what I meant to ask was—" She passes a fleeting glance towards the direction of the scientists, before lowering her voice to a comfortable whisper, "—how were the past few days without me? I told Tony to always have meals prepared for our guests, but I doubt he even fed himself appropriately."

"Oh, no, that's not necessary at all, for you or Tony to go through all that trouble" Steve fervently pledges, "We all get by just fine. You don't need to worry about us."

Pepper wrinkles her brows and smiles, and Steve swears this woman is too good for the world. "We're all going to have dinner at seven tonight, alright?"

"Honestly, it's your first day back. You don't have to do anything for us."

"Does Italian sound good?"

"Are you even listening to me?" Steve heaves a sigh, and Pepper responds with a laugh that reaches all the way to her eyes.

"Dinner at seven, and don't be late. Or it'll be a personal insult to the host."

"Oh, I don't know if I can. I have to look after Loki." Steve frowns, rubbing at the hair at the nape of his neck. He turns to the direction of the scientists and sees Tony speaking animatedly to the god, before bursting into laughter and slapping Loki on the back. Loki, however, god hardly seems to share his amusement.

"So bring him," Pepper says, and Steve falters slightly, never expecting acceptance to come this easily.

"Does he not like Italian?" she asks after receiving no coherent answer from the soldier, and Steve is quick to respond this time.

"No, Italian is actually—acceptable."

Pepper seems to smile with motherly patience, until the soldier concedes with a sigh. "Well, if it's okay with you guys, I guess I'll bring him."

###

"We completed the final touches on the prototype today," Tony says with a mouthful of lasagna, "You should see it. It's kind of cute. I might even keep one as a pet."

The final product of Tony's ingeniousness turns out much simpler for his taste, considering that the limitations of space travel left little room for extravagance. The finalized probe is a small replica of Loki, with a holographic projector inside its belly, so that the message can only be delivered once the machine is destroyed—like a piñata, almost. Tony had found his idea both brilliant and hilarious, while Loki was understandably unamused, but polite enough not to voice any of his disapproval.

"And I gave the blueprints to Jarvis to mass produce," the inventor continues, "I figured we'd want several tries, just in case we hit a bump in the portal."

"So when will you guys be ready?" Steve asks.

"Tomorrow."

Steve swallows his own meal with difficulty, and Pepper beside him, sympathetically pats him on the back. "Already?" he manages as the bolus finally descends his food tube.

"Things progressed a lot faster with Loki's help," Jane smiles politely, "And it's great, isn't it? We still have so much time to spare too—I always procrastinated so much in college, and it just feels amazing to be early for once."

"Yeah," Steve nods somewhat absently, "Yeah, that's great news."

Loki is seated beside him, picking listlessly at his food and not uttering a word. His expression is impassive—disinterested, almost—so Steve figures that he must have known of his earlier than planned departure (maybe that's why he didn't seem particularly worried about falling asleep again). He could have dropped Steve a hint, though, anytime during the day, so the news wouldn't have snuck up like a nasty surprise—but then again, maybe Steve is the only one who feels this way.

"This calls for a celebration," Tony remarks, raising his beer in a toast, "Tomorrow, we'll be the first humans to contact Asgard, and I think we should break out the good champagne."

Tony's proposal is met with less enthusiasm than he had anticipated, so naturally he decides to compensate for it himself. "Come on, guys, I'm throwing a party. Don't you know I throw the best parties?"

"Well—I kind of wanted to sleep tonight," Bruce says reluctantly, to which the inventor responds with a thunderous frown.

"Are you kidding me? What kind of a lame excuse is that? You'll have all day to sleep once we get reindeer games off the planet."

The doctor then shrugs, which only feeds the inventor's mania. Tony rises from his seat and saunters over until he is standing between Steve and Loki. "Come on, this might be Loki's last night here. We should at least do this for him."

"Well, as long as it's about Loki, and not in any way about you," Jane smiles into her cup, "I'm in."

Tony heaves a heavy sigh, but nonetheless, accepting the bargain to share his glory. "Since we're all overlooking what you did last summer—" He lofts a hand onto the god's shoulder, much to the Loki's chagrin, "Looks like you're invited, even if your chains are a bit of a drag."

The god doesn't respond, gingerly shrugging off the Tony's hand instead, although the inventor takes no offense.

Tony then turns to the soldier, with an almost haughty sneer. "I guess you're invited too, Cap, even if you're not actually part of Team Science."

"I'm guessing the name stuck, then." Steve rolls his eyes, mildly insulted, but then again, he's used to it by now.

"What about me?" Pepper offers a sympathetic smile, before teasing Tony on behalf of the soldier. "I'm not part of your team either."

"You get an automatic in to any party I throw. You should know that by now." Tony leans forward to plant a chaste kiss to his girlfriend's lips. If Clint were here, gagging noises would have ensued.

"Shouldn't Loki be part of Team Science at this point?" Jane quips, and Tony's eyes widen dastardly, before his face splits to a handsome grin.

"I believe you're right, Dr. Foster."

"I have no interest in your meaningless organization," Loki speaks for the first time, perhaps sensing the danger.

"Oh, don't be a buzz kill." The invertor says dismissively, "It'll be perfect when they turn Team Science into a movie. Think about it—the billionaire, the radioactive doctor, the professor, the twinkie—ow, fuck!—the _astrophysicist_ , and the God of Mischief. It's great!"

"Like a dysfunctional family," Bruce shakes his head and laughs, "Who would want to watch a movie about you blowing things up, anyway?"

"Hey," Tony points an accusing finger, "That's not all I do."

"Just take it," Steve laughs, nudging Loki slightly with his elbow, "Or he'll never shut up."

Loki presses his lips thinly but refrains from making any more objections, to which the inventor gladly interprets as consent. After dinner, Tony reveals his extravagant assortment of alcohol and encourages all the guests to drink themselves silly. He then proceeds to blast music loud enough to burst eardrums.

Bruce and Jane seem to loosen up after their third drink, joining Tony and Pepper on the makeshift dance floor, in a tangle of incoordination and laughter. Dr. Selvig refrains from drinking anymore than a glass—his liver, he had explained, from drinking so much in his youth, but the life of a scientist warrants such behavior—and Steve can understand, considering the professor's many hardships before and after his involvement with SHIELD.

"This does nothing for me," Loki, seated beside the soldier, frowns at his glass.

"Me neither." Steve says, swirling the golden liquid in his hand. "I metabolize way too quickly for any of it to take effect, because of the serum."

"Then, perhaps Asgard ale will you good."

Steve laughs at that, shaking his head. The music is too loud, so Loki has to lean to him every time they speaks, and Steve likes it a lot—the way their arms are almost touching.

"Would I be so fortunate?" He asks half-jokingly, and the god merely shrugs.

"Considering you will be the first to contact Asgard, why not?"

Steve wonders if this is a subtle invitation, but Loki is hardly in any position to make such promises. He humors himself with the possibility that the god might even miss him, but with the war in Asgard inevitable and looming—he doubts Loki would hold him to any importance on his long list of priorities. Maybe once the war is over, the god would even pay an occasional _friendly_ visit, but who knows how long that will take in the timespan of mortals? And that is, if everything works out for Loki in the end. God knows what will even happen to him once he leaves Earth?

"Alright, kids," Selvig announces as he dismounts from the stool by the kitchen island, "I think I'm calling it a night?"

"What?" Tony stills in his drunken swaying long enough to glare at the professor in disbelief, "We're not even done with the champagne."

"You just go on ahead, don't mind me." Selvig maneuvers his way past the dance floor, rubbing gingerly at his neck, "My liver and I need some well deserved rest."

"Oh, come on!" Tony cries out as the doors close behind the departing professor, "You're not even that old!"

"Let him be," Pepper smiles and kisses the inventor on his pouting lips, "He probably wants to sort out his sleep schedule, like any normal person."

"Well, his loss, because I was just about to propose a drinking game. We'll need to finish all of this, tonight."

"Are you insane?" Jane turns to the inventor, aghast, "You have practically a gallon of hard liquor left. We'll drink ourselves to death."

"No, we wont," Tony declares as he lowers the volume to the music, grabbing two bottles of scotch in the process. "Not with Cap and Loki, here."

"Maybe, we should sit this one out," Steve shares a look with the god, "It'll only be wasted on us."

"Oh, nonsense," Tony snorts dismissively, before filling Steve's glass with more golden liquid, "It's not like I can't _afford_ it. Just humor us."

"This is pathetic and it tastes like water," Loki says as Tony pours into his glass as well, and the inventor makes a face, before advising the god to behave, or he's out of Team Science.

"Are we seriously going to play _never-have-I-ever_?" Jane groans, but nonetheless takes a seat in Tony's orchestrated circle.

"Yeah, what is this, high school?" Bruce chuckles, although the inventor doesn't fall for his provocation.

"What is this game?" Loki leans closer to Steve, whispering as if to hide his curiosity, but his efforts are soon thwarted by Tony's prying ears.

"I'm glad you asked," Tony declares as all eyes fall to the god, "It's easy, which is why I picked it, since we have a newbie, here. Basically someone says, never have I ever done something, and if you've done that thing, you have to drink."

"And what if I lie." Loki deadpans.

"Then you're douchebag, which everyone already knows, so it doesn't matter."

"It's not meant to be anything serious," Steve offers a small smile, "You don't have to drink to anything, if you're uncomfortable with it."

"Christ," Tony groans, "Quit babying him. And it's not like I'm out to get him through some dumb drinking game. Here, I'll go first just to prove my point. Never have I ever made out with Thor."

Jane huffs indignantly before bringing her glass to her lips. "I hate you so much."

"Hey, give me some credit for keeping it PG," Tony smirks, while Pepper slaps him lightly on the arm, telling him to play nice.

"Never have I ever—" Jane begins as she glances to everyone in the room, "Never have I ever made out with a woman."

"That's weak," Tony says as all the men take their obligatory swigs, and directs his attention to Steve, who is next in the circle. "You have to make all the women drink now, Cap. It's your obligation as a man, to do so."

Steve rolls his eyes but abides, not quite in the mood for petty name calling with the inventor tonight. They're all supposed to be celebrating, after all. "Never have I ever made out with a man."

Jane and Pepper toast each other before taking a drink, but no one misses—out of the corner of their eyes—Loki taking a small sip from his glass as well. Steve feels his heart hammer and his stomach drop at the same time.

"Woah, there. _Woah_." Tony looks around fervently to make sure the others have realized as well. "I think we just witnessed something very important."

"The lives of gods span thousands of your Midgardian years, and experimentation is the most dependable cure to boredom," Loki remarks with airy aloofness, "Is that a problem, Mr. Stark?"

"Not at all." Tony takes a swig even though it's no one's turn. "Of all the problems I have with you, that's not one of them."

Loki is next in the circle, grimacing as he attempts to keep the pattern going. "Never have I ever _made out_ with—" his eyes flicker briefly with mischief "—Miss Potts."

And in that moment, the entire room bursts into laughter, probably at the sheer strangeness of Loki participating in a stupid drinking game, and trying to pick on Tony, to boot. The god appears to withdraw slightly at the others' reaction, unsure if it's a good sign or bad.

"Please, call me Pepper," the redhead smiles brilliantly, before Steve has a chance to voice his own encouragements.

"Well, that's good to know," Tony nods as he tips his glass to the god, "And I better not see anyone else drink to that."

Moving on, all eyes fall to Bruce as the doctor takes a brief moment to consider his options. "Never have I ever made out with two Swedish interns during the Loebner Prize ceremony."

"Hey! I told you that story in confidence!" Tony objects before turning to Pepper guiltily, "Of course, that was before us—and—"

Pepper smiles and nods sympathetically as the inventor trails off to take his drink. She then leans closer into the circle, preparing for her turn. "Never have I ever made out with Christine from Vanity Fair Magazine."

"God fucking damnit!" Tony bemoans before finishing all the liquid in his glass. "This is definitely not what I had in mind."

The night ends with the inventor a drunken heap on the floor, while everyone else seems a little woozy and way too happy—with the exception of Steve and Loki, of course, models of sobriety.

"Here, I got him," Steve says to Pepper has he swings Tony's arm over his shoulder, helping him to his feet.

"I love you, man," Tony slurs wetly against the soldier's ear, earning a grimace, "Don't move back to your apartment."

"Alright, Tony, I won't," Steve sighs, more of a consolation than an actual promise.

"And don't think I'll forget in the morning, either," the inventor manages before passing out completely head lolling on Steve's shoulder.

After delivering the inventor safely to his room, Steve exits the main doors to find Loki waiting for him by the elevators. The sight tugs at his heart, knowing that this might very well be the god's last night on Earth.

"You really are something," Steve says without really thinking, "It's like you have this strange ability to bring people together, even if you're not trying."

"I am aware," Loki responds with a touch of indignity, "I am the reason for the Avengers initiative, for the heroes to unite."

"No, not just that, though. Tony and Jane stopped fighting after you moved into the tower and—well, if it weren't for you, I'd still be living in that apartment downtown."

"Why were you living alone at that time?" Loki turns to him, expression otherwise impassive save for a faint glint of curiosity in those dark, green eyes. Steve knows he will grow to miss them.

"Oh, I don't know." The soldier shrugs. "I just wanted to, I guess. I really liked that skylight."

"Then, I apologize for your skylight," the god responds flatly, and as always, Steve is quick to compensate for his poor word choices.

"That's not what I meant, and—Well, it's not like it was your fault to begin with." He pauses briefly to reconsider the remainder of speech, before deciding to hell with it. If this is Loki's last night on Earth, he might as well make the most of it. "Hey, are you tired right now? I mean—are you in a hurry to go back to your room or—"

"No," came the curt reply, and Steve feels his heart race as the rest of his words roll off his tongue.

"Well, come to the roof with me."

"The roof." The god sounds skeptical, probably because he was never allowed outside before, and Steve wonders if he is taking another needless risk. But then again, if Loki truly had the ability to leave, he would have done so already, so a trip to the roof shouldn't put them in any worse of a predicament.

"Yeah, I want to show you something," the soldier hums as he presses the highest button on the elevator, "Why I liked my old apartment so much. If you don't mind, that is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is motivation and love (although, heads up, there's only going to be 3 chapters left, but there's a surprise uhuhu)


	20. The Lone Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry about the delay. These past three weeks had not been kind, work-load wise and health-wise now that the semester and fall (my allergies) has started.
> 
> Oh, I have a feeling you're going to hate me for this chapter, but if it's any consolation, the next chapter will not take nearly as long. Everything's planned already, so all I need is a little time off from school to finish it up.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. You guys have been one of my greatest motivations to finish this over 50k piece of fic :')

"You see that over there? The brightest star seen from Earth."

"Then, why is the moving cluster brighter?"

"Well, that's an airplane, so it doesn't count."

Loki wrinkles his nose delicately, unimpressed by the stunning skyline of the city that never sleeps, gleaming fantastically against the waters of the bay. And Steve can only imagine how Asgard must dwarf New York in comparison—richer, grander, the golden realm of eternal.

The sit side-by-side, backs against the wall, on the otherwise barren roof of Avengers Tower. Loki is hugging his knees, toying absently with the chains binding his wrists. The early autumn air is cool against their skin, and Loki's raven hair moves wispily with the breeze, falling over his eyes. Steve fights the impulse to smooth a rebellious lock behind the god's ear, so instead, he says, "You could've seen a lot more stars back in my time, when everything weren't so bright here on the ground."

Loki hums noncommittally as he rests his chin on his knee, eyes half-lidded.

"What about on Asgard?" the soldier continues, "Do you look at stars?"

"Not within the walls of the kingdom, but outside, it is possible."

"Well, I'm not sure about where you're from—" Steve shifts along the wall until he is half leaning, and half lying down. He can feel Loki's eyes bearing down on him. "—But here on Earth, stars have names, stories."

"You name your stars," the god rather flatly remarks.

"They were named thousands of years ago, by people who saw them as gods and heroes in their myths."

"Is there one named after me, then?" Loki lofts a brow, and Steve shakes his head and laughs, suspecting that the god's inquiry had only been partially in jest.

"Maybe if you had visited the Ancient Greeks. But then again, they were way before your time, I think. You missed them by 1000 years, probably more."

Loki frowns a little but says nothing else otherwise; mind too occupied for idle attempts at pleasantries. Steve wonders if he's selfish for wishing that the god would tear away from his troubles for tonight at least, considering it might well be his last night on Earth. But then again, maybe Steve is the only one who holds these final hours to anything significant.

"Although nowadays," the soldier adds, "New stars are being discovered all the time, so technically, you could still have one named after you, if you want."

That manages to draw a smile from the god—albeit a small one. "So it is a business?"

"Yeah, something along those lines."

Loki leans back into the wall and rests his head, eyes locked to the lone star. "What is the name of that one?"

"Sirius, the dog star."

"It is a dog?"

"Well, it's part of a constellation with other stars," Steve explains, "And if you connect the them, they're meant to give the appearance of a dog—of course, it requires a little imagination."

"Why is this dog so significant to warrant a place in the stars?"

"Because legend has it, Sirius is the dog of the great huntsman Orion." Steve closes his eyes as he speaks, recalling from the depth of his memories the stories he had once read as a child, a lifetime ago, but long forgotten since. "And after the huntsman died and ascended to the heavens, Sirius searched endlessly for him, until the gods took pity and placed the dog among the stars as well, at the foot of his master."

"Pity." Loki states with a furl on his lips.

"Loyalty. Bravery." Steve insists, "And others who recognized it."

"So will the humans place you among the stars, after your death?" Loki smiles wryly, teasing-almost, and Steve laughs.

"We don't do that anymore, and even if you do name a star after someone, it's usually for loved ones—girlfriends, mothers, loved ones—as a gift, or a little something, out of appreciation."

"I see," Loki says, his previously open expression clouding—evident enough for Steve to catch, but too vague to confidently interpret. Perhaps Loki is missing home—or at least the home before his fall, and losing everything.

And in a way, Steve is too.

"My mother had been a very down-to-earth type of woman, very pragmatic," Steve says, "She wouldn't have wanted stars named after her or anything like that."

Loki appears somewhat perplexed at the abrupt turn in the conversation, but voices none of his concerns.

"My mom was a nurse during the First Great War, so she'd been through quite a lot. I guess I was lucky that she was a nurse because—Well, I'm sure you already know that I haven't always been like this—"

He gestures vaguely in the direction of his torso, and the god nods faintly in response.

"I was the skinniest kid in school. Weighed even less than some of the girls, but that never stopped me from getting into fights. I'd go home all bloody and battered, and my mom—we'd argue every time. And she'd tell me to mind my own business, that there's no point in getting into fights I can't win, or trying to protect people when I can't even protect myself."

Steve pauses to gather his thoughts. The last person he had mentioned any of this to was Bucky—before the serum, before the war—and it feels strangely liberating to cast it into the void, to willing ears.

"She got sick not long after though, and she was dying. It was the only time I had ever seen her cry, and it was all because of me. Because I'd be all alone, and she was _sorry_ , as if it's her fault. She didn't make me promise to stay out of fights, because she knew I could never keep it, but she did tell me to be smart, to look out for myself and—I don't know. She would've never forgiven me for enlisting in the army, for taking the serum—the way I was back then—but now, I'd like to think, that we're on good terms. That I made the right decisions, and I—"

"Whether by fate or fortune, you are a hero to Earth, are you not?" Loki briskly responds, "What more could she wish for?"

Steve ducks his head and smothers a smile, suddenly remembering whom he's speaking with and almost embarrassed by the unwarranted outpour. "I guess there really wasn't a point—because that's what mothers do, right? Put up with you no matter what."

Loki responds with an absent nod.

"Maybe it's more difficult for fathers." Steve carelessly adds, and the god's contorting expression is all the soldier needs to amend for his mistake, quickly redirecting his previous comment to himself. "I mean, I wouldn't know. I've never met my father. He died during the war and—I've always looked up to him, I guess. I wanted to be brave like him.

"To die a soldier's death." Loki's lips twist bitterly, and Steve can tell that the god is unsettled, and in effect lashing out.

So he takes none of it to heart, and patiently corrects, "No, to fight for my country, to protect others and do my job. That's my purpose."

"And what is a soldier then, without war?" Loki all but sneers.

"The same as he has always been," Steve responds resolutely, "A good man."

The god frowns and shifts closer, eyes flickering dangerously, "Tell me Captain, in this deceptive period of peace, do you miss the chaos of war?"

Steve swallows thickly and props himself to sit, so that the god is no longer towering over him, menacing. "No, I only fight when there is a reason to. I don't condone war."

"So what is your purpose now?"

"I don't know," Steve can honestly admit, "But it's alright. I have plenty of things I want to do, even if they're not particularly grand. I had slept through the past 70 years, and there's a lot of catching up to do. And I'd choose this life over war, any day."

"And here I thought you were the model poster boy." Loki's lips curve to a half grin, distancing himself.

"In a way, I was," Steve sighs and remembers the autographs, the fake photo smiles, and dancing girls on star-spangled stages. It didn't seem right then, and by now, he actually feels ashamed. But then he remembers Peggy's supportive smile, the waltzing light in her eyes, and thinks how naïve they must have been. Sure, they won the war, but it certainly didn't feel like a victory when you count the losses.

Loki looks at him intently, and Steve realizes he never even finished his thought.

"But I guess, there's a lot you don't realize until you've actually fought in a war," he continues, resting his head against cinderblock, "You don't realize you're mortal until you're injured, or the notion of sacrifice until your best friend dies. And you don't realize how pointless it all had been until after the fact."

"And maybe that's why I like Hemingway," Steve turns to Loki with a small smile, although the god remains more-or-less impassive, "Because he writes about war and people the way they are—doesn't sugarcoat or glorify them like picture books. He praises bravery, but not war, and recognizes how unfair it is, that politicians speak while soldiers die. I'm not saying I agree with everything he believes in—regarding drinking, or women, or any of his nihilism—but above all else, he's honest in his writing. And I guess I appreciate that."

Loki rests his chin against his knees, eyes pensive. "I suppose that is something our cultures have in common, teach misconceptions of war to children," he speaks, his voice barely a whisper. And Steve feels slightly strange, hearing these sentiments from Loki, who only a year ago, had carelessly brought mayhem to a planet who had never done him any harm. It's hard to believe that the Loki before is the same as the summer before, and a part of Steve wishes they weren't.

"I—Can I ask you something?" The soldier says after a stretch of heavy silence.

"I cannot stop you from doing so."

"Are you doing all of this—willingly going back to fight for Asgard—for your mom?"

Loki briefly assesses him, wary but not particularly scandalized by the inquiry. "I have already told you, my magic is locked, and only Odin holds the key. I am fighting for my freedom."

"But does she play any part in your decisions, even in the slightest." Steve gently prods, and Loki's tolerance visibly begins to quiver.

"Why should that matter?"

"I'm just curious, I guess. You're not exactly on good terms with Odin or Thor, I know that, but—you've never said anything bad about your mother."

Loki stares at him for another long minute, and speak with resolute calmness, just as the soldier begins to feel twitchy. "She has not done me any wrong. The grudge I hold for Asgard does not apply to her."

"Is she the only one?"

"Yes."

Steve runs his hand through the front of his hair, cherishing this vital piece of information. He knows he should probably steer the conversation to less dangerous waters, but that would be neither honest nor brave.

"Are you really leaving tomorrow?" he asks instead, and Loki once again appears perplexed.

"If communication is successful, the arrangements should be made immediately. What is wrong, Captain? You do wish me to leave, for the safety of your planet."

"Yes—no," Steve feels his words catching in his throat, "I mean, if its just you—no Chitauri, no invasions, no people dying—Just you, like how you've been for the past few weeks. Then no, I don't mind that you're here."

Steve wonders miserably if he managed to make any sense at all, and even though the god doesn't ridicule him (or display any readable expression), he doubts that Loki understood what he had been trying to say.

"It will never be just like this," came the polite, albeit distant reply.

"What do you mean?"

"This will not happen again."

"Well regardless, I wouldn't mind," the soldier heaves a heavy sigh, "And once you do leave, will you be alright in Asgard, in the war?

"I cannot be the judge of that."

"But if it works out—after everything—can you in any way, tell me?"

Loki turns to him with furrowed, brows mouth twisting with a hint of frustration. "Why should you care?"

"Is it hard to believe that I do?" Steve responds demurely like a silent plea, and Loki falls silent again, turning away, realizing that neither of them is answering each other's questions.

"Loki, look—" Steve shifts across and grabs Loki by the shoulder, urging him to turn around. He wants the god to promise—for what it's worth—to at least make an attempt to get a message through to Earth after the war, even if he has to swallow some pride and ask Thor. But before the soldier can get any of this out, Loki leans into him as he turns around, and suddenly they're close, _too_ close, that all thoughts are instantly obliterated. Loki casts his eyes downward somewhere to the vicinity of Steve's mouth, and Steve _knows_ it's not too late, that he can still pull pack if he wanted to. But he doesn't, and they stay like that for such a long time, much longer for mere assurances.

Loki closes the gap between them, and Steve watches as the god's eyes flutter shut. Their lips meet in a tentative press, and Steve can feel the god's wary breaths against his. Loki kisses him and Steve allows it, mind simultaneously panicked and drawing a blank.

This is wrong, Steve thinks, this is unbelievably wrong, but at the same time, he does nothing to stop it.

And Loki is kissing him like he really needs it—no tongue, just soft presses and nips, almost like an apology. Steve feels cold fingers threading into his hair, and he lifts his hand, wanting to hold Loki by the waist and pull him closer.

But then he remembers the war in Manhattan, the blood stains on the pavement, and memorials for young mothers and crying children. He thinks of the destruction and injustice, the arrogance of gods, and innocent people who paid with their lives. He thinks of the Avengers, Fury's taunts— _they're careless people, and they will never learn_. And could this all still be a trick, that Loki is simply using him after— _everything_? Or maybe it's the other way around—Fury's ploy—and Steve refuses to be the leash that holds the monster. And regardless of whether these feelings are true, he morals still stand strong. And this is wrong, undoubtedly so, because Loki is a criminal— _a victim_ —under the Avenger's surveillance— _Steve's care_ —and either way, either extremes, Steve knows he can't. He just _can't_ —

"No, Loki," he whispers, everything halts in that instant, and by the time he opens his eyes, Loki is already gone. Steve stays on the roof for a long time afterwards, eyes fixed upon the long star. He feels like the worst kind of person imaginable right now.

###

"Jarvis, where's Loki?" Steve asks the AI as he descends the steps to the balcony, heading inside. He should've never left Loki alone in the tower for so long but had decided against seeking out the god himself, fearing repercussions.

"In your guest room, Captain," came the impassive response.

"What is he doing?"

"Nothing in particular, sir."

"Is he sleeping?"

"No, sir."

Steve enters his living quarters and sees the faint glow of light coming behind Loki's closed door. He contemplates on knocking but soon finds the fatigue in his bones overwhelming. The evening had felt so elongated, so dream-like, that Steve can hardly believe it had been real. And the soldier eventually decides that perhaps, it would not be the best to confront the god on the same night. He needs more time to think, to convince himself of the gravity and reality of the situation, and maybe then, he'd know what to say. So Steve returns to his room and shuts the light, all the while ignoring the tangling knot in the pit of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! You guys have been wonderful, and again, sorry for the wait!


	21. D-Day and Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sucks in breath* Not a terribly long wait this time, I hope. So this is basically me wrapping everything up. Thank you so much for those who read this far. It has been a long project, and certainly it hasn't been easy (both writing and reading, I can imagine) I'll have more notes at the end. Please enjoy for now :)

"Well, this just is bizarre," Tony says, eyebrows knitted together as he speeds his hands across the control panel.

"What's the matter?" Jane looks over his shoulder. "Are we getting interference?"

"No, worse. We lost signal completely."

SHIELD certainly took it upon their liberty to alter and destroy Steve's apartment in any way they deemed appropriate, in order to make their jobs easier. Most of the furniture has been cleared out, and some of the walls torn town. Even part of the roof has been removed to offer a good view from whatever aircraft the director is currently in. The scientists are huddled over their machines beneath the broken skylight, while Steve waits with Loki in what had once been a kitchen. Armed guards stand at either side of them, guns raised and pointed in case Loki tries something gunny. Fury's precautions hardly seemed necessary, and Steve wishes that they were alone instead. There's still so much he wants to tell the god, in private.

Steve had found Loki in his living area earlier that morning, perched motionlessly in his usual spot on the couch. The soldier took a deep breath as memories from last night flooded through his head, before approaching the god in tentative strides.

"Look, about last night—"

"Pardon me for my behavior," Loki promptly interjected, and Steve faltered slightly, perhaps taken aback by the apology. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't that.

"No, no—Don't," he winced, holding up a hand, "Please don't say that because—I'd be lying if I say I didn't see it coming. And I guess, in that moment, I wanted—I wanted it too."

Loki turned to him slowly, perplexed, and the soldier decided to continue before any further interruptions.

"These kinds of things though, it takes time—for me at least—to get used to, to figure everything out. And unfortunately, that's something we don't have a lot of. Time."

"Bad timing, is that all?" Loki smiled thinly, and Steve ducks his head, feeling a blush creeping from ear to ear.

"I guess you could say that," he doubted he was fooling anyone, "I mean if it weren't for Thanos, or the war, or Asgard—" _or the fact that you murdered innocent people, threatened to enslave humanity, brought violence and destruction to our city_ , Steve can go on, but he doesn't—although he felt it was implied.

"I understand." Loki barely reacted at all, looking at Steve through a shroud of smoke. And Steve probably should've left the conversation as that, but it didn't feel right, not in the slightest. So he took a seat beside the god, and naturally began to dig himself into a hole.

"You're going to be fine."

"Excuse me?"

"In the war, I mean, when you fight for Asgard" Steve wasn't sure where he was going with it, but it was definitely going somewhere. "Because you're not just fighting for yourself—and I'm glad that you still care for your mother at least. You're stronger and cleverer than anyone I've ever faced, and I believe we fight the hardest when we're protecting someone we love. That's what I think, at least. You're going to be fine."

Loki said nothing in response, but Steve could tell by the petulance in his expression, that words were forming at the tip of his tongue, and perhaps if they were given more time, the soldier would have received the well-anticipated reprimand.

But just then, several armed guards barged into Steve's living quarters, and they took Loki by the arm, herding him out like a sheep, to be transported to the site of the portal. Steve followed in suit, all the while arguing how needless that all was, that Loki could simply go with him, that he was in charge of supervising the god. But his words fell to deaf ears, and perhaps Loki's nonchalance during the whole ordeal was the most discouraging part of all.

"You sure this is the right algorithm?" Tony says upon their third failed attempt.

"For the last time yes." Jane responds with a bite in her tone, "You sure you entered my algorithm correctly?"

"Of course!" Tony half-snorts, appalled, and Bruce is quick to insert himself between his short-tempered colleagues.

"Guys, let's not fight. We knew we might run into some turbulence along the way. We still have plenty of chances left. Let's just try again."

Tony grumbles in discontent before returning to the control panel, but as he reaches for the screen, a bright burst of energy appears to sizzle under his touch, and the inventor hisses before withdrawing, as if his hand has been burnt.

"What in the world—did you see that?"

Jane rushes to his side once again. "Did we just—blow up? _How_?"

"This isn't supposed to happen until we got through," Dr. Selvig says from a few panels away, "And we weren't anywhere close."

"This can't be right." Jane flips through the panels of her calculations at a frantic pace. "I checked it at least ten times—the algorithm is correct. I'm sure of it—I—"

"Uh, guys?" Bruce interjects, pointing to the portal above. Steve looks at the portal too, and realizes almost immediately that something is off, the way the energy seems to crackle within the spiral of dark clouds, before the indisputable figure of a metallic humanoid comes to view, followed by another, and another. And they were approaching fast, weapons aimed and ready.

"Oh, no," Tony sucks in his breath, before a blast of energy strikes his projector, exploding in a spectacular display of fireworks.

Jane screams, and Steve lunges instinctively towards her and the old professor, shielding them both from ensuing blasts. This is bad. This is really bad. The Chitauri are here, while Avengers are scattered. And what's left of them are unarmed, unprepared, caught completely by surprise. The only fortune part is that SHIELD has already evacuated this area of the city, and agents are situated with weapons on hand. And Steve can only hope that they can fend off the invasion long enough for him and Tony to suit up.

"Bruce!" Steve yells, and the doctor seems to understand, the only hero who is capable of fighting right now. And in a flash of seconds, green muscles tear through his flimsy clothing , as the Hulk launches himself amongst the extraterrestrial invaders.

"You said we had a month!" Steve shouts, adrenaline pumping through his veins, as he turns to Loki a few yards away, free of his guards who are otherwise occupied. He looks just as surprised as the rest of them, and the soldier could at least find some comfort in that.

"What's the plan, Cap?" Tony huffs as he stumbles next to Steve, a stray blast of energy nearly grazing his left ear.

"Any chance you can get your suit?" Steve asks as he guides everyone behind a fallen bookcase, one of the few pieces of furniture that still remained.

"I set it on auto, so it should get here in a minute or two."

"Alright, stay low until then, and get Jane and the professor somewhere safe,"

Steve pushes himself to stand, but Tony yanks him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back down. "Where are you going?"

"To find some answers."

"Are you insane? You don't have your suit. Or your shield. Anything!"

"Well, someone has to act as a decoy." Steve shrugs the inventor's hand away, all the while craning his neck and trying to spot Loki. "Now, go!"

The god is holding his own remarkably well for someone who is chained at both his hands and feet. Steve watches from the corner of his eyes as Loki breaks one of the Chitauri soldier's necks— _using_ the chains. Steve manages to disarm an alien and takes out two more using the weapon, all the while trying to get closer to Loki.

So far so good—that is until a giant metallic whale emerges from the portal, forcing the opening to stretch and tear to even a larger diameter than before. And once through, it opens its gigantic mouth and releases chains and shackles that only seemed to have one target. Loki manages to avoid the first two, but another catches him by the ankle, throwing him off balance long enough for the others to strap around his arms, wrists, and neck. And they're pulling him inside, threatening to engulf the god within the giant gaping cavern.

"Loki!" Steve fires his weapon at the chains, breaking a few, and the monster appears to groan in agony, only because he had caught the attention of the Hulk, who is now pummeling into its enormous metal stomach.

Loki falls to the floor of the apartment in a tangled web of chains, followed by the whale, and one of its metal arches spears through the space between his legs, earning a sigh of relief from Steve. That could have ended a lot messier. The soldier quickly rushes to the god's side, freeing him from the shackles.

"We were supposed to have more time."

"I overestimated, it seems." Loki sounds numb, open, and obviously shaken, and Steve—perhaps too easily—believes him.

But their misfortune doesn't end there, as Steve soon realizes that Loki is now trapped, bound to the metal arch by his own chains, cursed by Odin. The building wobbles from the weight of the alien spaceship, and Steve can tell that they don't have much time before the entire structure collapses.

"You cannot break the curse. It is no use."

Steve ignores the god and continues to yank at the chain. He then looks up at the arch trapping Loki—too large and heavy, no hope for him to lift.

"Leave, Captain." Loki sounds more concerned this time. "You may not survive the fall."

"And you could? This thing is going to crush you."

The building teeters as metal debris slides past them. Steve fires the Chitauri weapon at the chains, which deflect the beam, glowing the same ethereal blue as when Tony had experimented earlier on.

"Leave! Or it will crush you too." Loki tries to push him away, but the soldier refuses to budge.

"There has to me some—some other way—" Steve fires at the metallic arch, denting it slightly, but to no avail.

"You are a fool!" The god is practically clawing at him. "And you will die a pointless death. Is this what soldiers do? Die a fool while believing they are a hero?"

"Goddamn it, shut up!" Steve snaps, the last few words certainly striking a nerve. "I'm not about to just leave you!"

The foundation before them collapses and suddenly, they're falling. Steve, on instinct, takes a piece of debris and smashes it against the chain, and this time it glows with more intensity than ever before, blinding. He feels Loki wrapping his arms around his neck and shoulders, gripping so tightly that he could hardly breathe, until he feels nothing but the god in his arms.

They emerge in a clearing outside of the city, grass scraping the nape of Steve's neck as he lies on his back, Loki above him. They stay like that for while, and Steve can feel Loki's chest heaving against his. He contemplates on bringing a hand to the god's neck, shoulder, the curve of his spine, but Loki disentangles himself before the soldier has the chance.

Loki's expression is dubious—almost sad—and it takes a moment for Steve to realize that the chains are gone.

"Loki—" He begins, but the god raises a hand, and suddenly all words are trapped in his throat. Steve can't move, can barely breathe, as invisible forces push him onto his back again.

And in a flash of gold and green, Loki summons his armor, helmet, and scepter all at once, and Steve feels his stomach clench, as all the blood in his veins turn icy cold. He feels as if he's on the brink of consciousness—could barely see, only hear—although that's fading away also.

"Captain Rogers, I must confess that I have lied. About my mother, she is dead, although my love for her is true. My reason for seeking your help is not of reconciliation but of revenge. She was slain before my eyes, before I was thrown into your world, and I have lost the only person I loved, the only person who loved me, at the hands of enemies I had made in my weak judgment. I do not care what else happens but in vengeance I shall find peace, and in death, perhaps the atonement I deserve.

"I have enjoyed our time together, and I am regretful it must end. You are a fearsome warrior, but above all, a good man. Goodbye Captain, and may it be your fortune that we do not meet again."

###

Steve wakes up in his room back at the tower, with Clint— _of all people_ —by his bedside. He groans as he sits up, rubbing at his temples to sooth a lingering headache. An awful feeling hangs over his mind, as if something important has escaped him completely.

 _Loki_.

"Where's—Loki?" He manages, as dread sinks to the pit of his stomach. If Clint is back at the tower, it could only mean that Steve has been out of commission for at least three days since the _second_ Chitauri invasion. His room at least appears intact, and he can only hope the same for the rest of New York.

"Good to have back, Cap." Clint pats him on the shoulder, completely ignoring his previous inquiry.

Steve takes a moment to organize his thoughts, before asking instead, "What happened to the—"

"The Chitauri?" Clint arches a brow. "Well, according to Tony, they barely lasted an hour before Loki came—green cape, golden horns, and everything—and takes out every single one of those alien grunts. Then, he throws himself into that portal and closes it behind him, and that was the end of everything. And Tony's pissed because—apparently they were close to reaching Asgard or something—and they're back to square again, with the portal gone."

"And Loki?" Steve pinches his eyes closed as all the information sinks in, "Did he—I don't know—say anything before he left?"

Clint furrows his brows. "Not that I'm aware of, but who cares. Good riddance."

Steve sighs and wipes his clammy hands against the sheet over his legs. He remembers now—every word Loki had said in that impromptu farewell—and it's replaying over and over again in his head, like a broken record.

Loki's gone—maybe even gone for good—and Steve feels a sinking terror, a paralyzing sort of dread that makes it hard to breath.

"I can't believe you guys just let him live in the tower for the past couple of weeks." Clint laughs, as oblivious as ever. "And not even in a cage? What were you thinking?"

"I—" Steve responds numbly, his mind obviously elsewhere, "He was on our side this time."

"Well, I'm sure you'd like to believe that." The archer snickers as he makes his way for the door, probably to inform the rest of the team of Steve's resurgence. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad I was stuck in Russia during the whole Loki fiasco."

****

**Epilogue**

No one knows what happened to Loki after he disappeared beyond the portal. It had been rather an anticlimactic end for the scientists—a lot of ingenious and busy work that all eventually amassed to nothing—but at least, they'd know where to start next time, if there is a next time.

SHIELD is no longer obliging them to stay, and Dr. Selvig had returned to the university to teach, now that they're well into the semester. Jane had opted to stay, to help Tony with his original work on contacting Asgard, because she is still waiting for a word from Thor, and it's worrying that she hasn't received one yet. And now that Loki is free with all his magic intact—and no intention of returning to his home, Asgard probably would want a notice of some sort.

Jane is the first person whom Steve tells of Loki's final words, soon followed by Tony and Pepper. The astrophysicist assures him that it's not too late, that they will do everything they can to reach Asgard as soon as possible, and certainly, Thor will know what to do.

Steve doesn't mention their kiss to anyone, nor of Loki's fondness for sweets and good books, and the portrait of his mother Steve had drawn—the only memento the god had taken from Earth, it seems. All the books still lay scattered in Steve's spare bedroom, untouched since that day.

Steve tries to recall every flicker of doubt, every fleeting sadness he had managed to catch from the god, but didn't have the means to interpret, and the pieces are finally falling together now that he knows—Loki had been mourning for the loss of his mother, and even then, he masked it remarkably well. Steve would have never even guessed.

And now, he feels like an idiot for constantly bringing up the subject of family, because he had thought it would _help_ the god, in reminding him that there is still a home for him, a family albeit fragmented, a mother who cares. But Frigga is dead, and Loki wants nothing short of vengeance—even adopting some delusional notion that a suicide mission can bring atonement. And Steve wants to grip onto the god's shoulders and shake him, until he opens his eyes and see that this fight is not his alone. And there are still people who care for him—and maybe Steve can't vouch for Thor or Odin—but at least, he can speak for himself, that _he_ cares, for whatever that's worth.

Three months passed, and the scientists make little progress in reach Asgard. Steve feels as if he's trapped in limbo, with so much on his mind and so much left to do, but no means of actually accomplishing anything. His old apartment is permanently destroyed—safe to say—so he stayed at the tower ever since, although too restless to remain a constant presence throughout the day.

Every so often, he rides his bike to that clearing outside of the city, where Loki had brought him before disappearing without a trace. It's the beginning of December now, and the dry winter air pricks at Steve's skin, a stark contrast to the gentle coolness of Loki's touch against his neck, threading through his hair. And it startles himself almost, how different Loki appears in his memory—the way his voice is hard but eyes are sad—more of a lost soul than the monster from before.

Steve shouts Loki's name into the sky once he reaches the clearing, more out of wild hope than anything, that the god might be among the clouds and atmosphere, somewhere within reach. The soldier sighs and sags his shoulders when not even an echo returns, before approaching his bike at the side of the road, preparing to leave.

But a loud cackle halts him in his stride, and he looks up to find the heavens opening above him, a great beam of light descending and engulfing him whole. And suddenly the ground beneath his feet is gone.

Steve feels his stomach clench and twist, as he plummets through endless lights and distortion. A long moment passes before he feels something solid again beneath his hands and knees, glassy marble cool against his skin. He only dares to move once his stomach has caught up—no longer threatening to empty all its contents onto the floor. He glances up to find a dark-skinned man in golden armor, eyes vacant as if blind, while half of his face is marred in fresh scars.

"I am Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost, the all-seeing and all-hearing sentry of Asgard. And I have been commanded to summon you, Steve Rogers of Midgard."

"By whom?" Steve very carefully rises to his feet.

"Lady Frigga, our queen."

****

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically I planned this to be a two part series all along. More information to come on the next part, and I will be posting it at the end of this story, so no need to subscribe to my account.
> 
> I am SO sorry for ending it with probably one of the biggest cliff-hangers I have ever written. Of course, I will need a little time to meticulously plan out the second novel-length part, but feel free to PM me if you have any questions.
> 
> I am also gingerthomas (vampiretom for October) on tumblr, if you wish to contact me there.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for the support and lovely feedback. I hope you will continue to follow this story onto the next part :')


	22. Author’s Notes on Sequel

Hi, my wonderful readers.

As always, thank you SO much for the continued support and lovely feedback on my first (sort-of completed) long-fic, _Easy Come, Easy Go_. I realize I have this tendency to leave off with cruel cliffhangers, and I can't apologize enough. But the good news, at least, is that I've already invested so much in this series, and I have every intention of bringing it to competition.

The second (most likely novel-length) part will be called _It Rains In Heaven_ , and I have already posted a prologue—in Loki's POV, and it's likely to be the only time I delve into Loki's mind (We'll be going back to Steve the next chapter, and onwards). Hopefully, this brief glimpse can answer _some_ questions.

Again, thank you so much for the support and patience. The second part is still under meticulous planning, but further updates will be made in _It Rains In Heaven_.

See you there ;)


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